


It ain't easy being furry

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cursed!Sam, Gen, Wolf!Sam, werewolf!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 05:42:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 37,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2840087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is cursed by a witch on a hunt and turned into a werewolf</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"That was a hell of a witch hunt." Dean boasted with an exhilarated grin and his focus rapidly shifting from Sam to the road. Sam rolled his eyes from the passenger seat of the impala despite wearing an entertained smirk. "Yeah, sure. I guess it was alright.", He agreed with a snort. Dean's eyes rounded incredulously and he dramatically whipped his head to Sam then back to the road. It kind of reminded Sam of a classic cartoon character doing an unrealistic amount of double takes in a dire situation. The image of an animated Dean suspended in air over the edge of a cliff and glancing back and forth from the audiance to the bottom of the cliff was enough to have Sam pushing down a bark of laughter. "'Alright!?' We roasted that bitch! C'mon, Sammy, have a little pride in a job well done. One dead witch plus one safe town equals two happy Winchesters. Do the math." He exclaimed as he flashed Sam a jubilant expression. Well, he wasn't wrong. Just as they had thought the witch was gonna come out on top, Dean had doused her with enough gasoline to cover her in a strong-scented--but more importantly, flammable--coat of it and tossed his lighter. A split second of the bitter smell wrinkling Sam's nose, a puff of blossoming flame, and with a raw, inhumanly shrill scream, it was over. After that, Dean had practically morphed into a hyperactive puppy. He bounced with every step and nearly skipped to the impala, which Sam was definitely gonna give him shit for later. All in all, it had been a good night, a successful hunt, and Dean was in a good mood. Hell, maybe if Sam pushed it, Dean would even let him pick the music for the rest of the ride. After several minutes of silence accompanied only by the gentle lull of some soft rock song trickling from the radio, Dean began to calm as the adrenaline of a finished hunt wore off and he sagged tiredly in his seat. He sighed contentedly and turned to Sam with a furrowed brow. "You alright?" He asked suddenly.. Sam startled a bit; thrown off by the abrupt break in quiet. He forced his demeanor to appear relaxed and unwrapped his arm from around his abdomen. "Yeah, I'm good. Just a stomach ache...actually a headache too." He admitted. He adjusted himself in his seat as he realized just how true it was. What had started as a mild cramp had evolved into a dull ache and continued to climb in pain until beginning to reach a point beyond simple discimfort.

Since they had left the witch's house, he had been feeling a little off in that subtle, easily ignored way; however, the ratcheting pain spreading through him like a virus was quite noticeable and particularly difficult to wave off as unimportant. He blew out a pained sigh. He just wished the drive back to the motel wasn't so damn long. Normally it wouldn't bother him, but a lumpy, dubiously clean bed sounded pretty great at the moment. It felt like he was becoming more exhausted by the second and the throbbing of his skull travelled through his muscles; meeting with the aching center of his gut and mingling to form an agonizing cocktail of fire. "You don't think the witch...got you with anything, do you?" Dean suddenly asked, obviously aware of the pain Sam was failing to hide. Sam pondered the question. There was a moment, right before Dean had showed up with the gasoline, where he could have sworn the witch was mumbling something sinister under her breath and glaring malevolent daggers at him. Then she had turned to Sam and flashed him a satisfied sneer. Maybe she HAD cast some sort of spell on him. "I...don't know." Sam finally answered quietly. Dean's lips parted as if he planned on responding, but his mouth clamped shut again; seemimgly analyzing the potential situation and it's concequences. "What the hell do you mean "you don't know"?" Dean barked gruffly. Concern had always had a way of translating to anger with Dean. Sam could tell by the tight, white-knuckled grip he had on the steering wheel that he was being quickly overcome with anxiety and wasn't happy about the lack of control he had over it. 

Sam was suddenly struck with intense anger that gave him mental whiplash from how abruptly it had jolted through him; like a flash of white, hot lightning. He clenched his fists and his nostrils flared as he saw red. "I mean 'I. Don't. Fucking. Know.' That clear enough for you, Dean?" He ground out every word seperately like each one was a steel knife that could cut flesh if spoken with enough resentment. Dean's eyebrows shot up in shock at Sam's shift in attitude. He sputtered awkwardly for a moment; unsure of how to respond. "Is it your time of the month or something, Sammy? I'm just looking out for you, man; no need to get pissy." He defused calmly. Sam slumped in his seat and took a deep breath. "I know. Sorry. I think the witch might have done something to me. First the headache, then the stomach ache, and now I wanna rip someone's throat out." He attempted to make the last part light and humorous, but it somehow slipped out as more of an eery growl. He immediately slapped a palm to his mouth and avoided Dean's gaze from his side. "You...you what?" Dean asked, dumbstruck. Sam slowly removed his hand and realized it was shaking slightly. He shook his head minutely. "I don't-I didn't mean to say it like that..." He mumbled. "Sam...that sounded almost like-like a growl." Dean said. His voice was unsteady and he seemed to be analyzing Sam carefully in between glances at the road. 

Sam swallowed the lump in his throat. "Yeah. I know." He responded shortly. The tension grew as the drive went on. Sam could feel Dean's eyes on him, but he didn't comment. Mostly because he was too freaked out that he didn't know what was wrong with him.

\-------------------------

Dean switched his vision from the road to Sam as he ignored the sweat from his palms on the steering wheel. Sam was acting weird and it was starting to freak him the fuck out. His mind whirred with different, particularly horror filled, ideas of what the witch could have done to him. If she just gave him a pissy attitude, fine, he could deal with that, but the second Sam started talking about ripping throats out, and making it sound like he truly wanted to, Dean was obviously gonna freak. His brother was staring out the window and into the barely lit night. The sun had gone down a while ago and the moon was steadily making an appearance. "We almost back to the motel?" Sam suddenly asked. His voice was clipped like he was bottling the anger that had earlier exploded from him. Dean sighed and pressed his lips together. "Not yet, Sammy." He replied evenly. If he wanted Sam to keep his cool, he had do the same. "How're ya holding up?" He asked hopefully. Sam groaned, wether with irritation or pain, Dean wasn't sure.

Sam stiffened and turned to Dean suddenly. His eyes were wild and his face was paler than Dean remembered it being. "Pull over" he demanded. There was an edge of hysteria in his voice. Dean's heart rate sped up. "What, are you gonna hurl?" He joked, secretly hoping he wasn't right. Sam clenched his jaw and reached for the steering wheel. "Woah, woah!" Dean yelped as he righted the wheel and pressed down on the brake. The car skid to an unsteady stop and Sam whipped around to his door. Faster than Dean is sure he's ever moved, he leaned over and slammed down the lock on the door. "What the hell, Sam!" He yelled. Sam turned to him with his teeth bared and the pain evident in his features. "Dammit, Dean! I know what's wrong with me, you gotta let me out!" He screamed the words with an odd combination of rage and fear and trepidation. Dean held out his palms and made his voice quiet. "You gotta calm down, Sammy. Tell me what's wrong." He instructed slowly and is if trying not to spook a wild animal. The words seemed to agitate Sam more as he bowed his head and grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked. Dean leaned away at the action. It was just so...not Sam.

He threw his head back up and growled, actually growled this time, at Dean. His nose was crinkled and his teeth were showing menacingly. Dean's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. What the fuck was happening to his brother? "Put me in the trunk!" Sam suddenly said. Dean's eyes swiveled all around the car. "What?!" He voiced his storm of confused thoughts. Sam searched his eyes. "I can't hurt anyone, Dean! I know what she did to me and you have to put me in the trunk right fucking now before I do!" Every part of him screamed panic and rage and Dean didn't hesitate before nodding and scrabbling out of the car. Sam followed him as they sprinted to the back of the car. The chilled night bit at Dean's skin and raised the hairs, but Dean had a feeling the shaking had more to do with Sam. He opened the trunk wide and just a bit of relief showed on Sam's face. Dean rested his hand on Sam's shoulder to stop him from moving. "First tell me what the hell is going on." He demanded with every ounce of authority he had.

Sam glanced at the black paint of the car nervously. "She made me a-" he was cut off as he yelped and doubled over. "Sam!" Dean caught him and lowered him to the ground. Sam looked up at him with frightened eyes. He opened his mouth to speak and Dean jumped as if he was struck at the sight of the pointed canine teeth protruding from Sam's mouth. "Trunk" he stated with an accompanying groan and a slight lisp from the elongated teeth. He knew what those teeth meant and it did nothing to sooth his anxiety. Dean nodded once and helped lift him into the trunk. Sam's eyes squeezed shut as he curled into a ball in the too-small area. "A werewolf?!" Dean finished Sam's statement incredulously. Sam nodded jerkily and screamed. The sound tore from him painfully and Dean felt the urge to cover his ears. Instead, he slammed the trunk shut and took a few steps away from the car. Feeling lightheaded, he ran his fingers through his hair and reassessed the situation. Okay, so a witch had cursed Sam and made him a werewolf. Taking a confused look at the sky, Dean realized the lunar cycle wasn't right for a werewolf to be turning tonight. Plus, since when has a werewolf screamed in pain during a turn? Madison hadn't, had she? What the hell?

Sam screamed again from the trunk. The sound was long and gritty and desperate. Dean ground his teeth together, mentally begging for it to stop. He froze as the screaming ended and was replaced by the sound of snapping and something that made him think of rocks grinding together. "No..." He whispered under his breath because it couldn't be. That witch bitch didn't turn Sam into one of the werewolves they were used to hunting. His body chilled at the sound of canine-like whining. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Was Sam an actual wolf inside his car? Dammit, they were screwed. 

He couldn't bring Sam back to the motel in his condition. He looked around at the empty stretch of road. He decided this was the safest place to figure things out. How the hell was he gonna go about this? Not only did Dean not know when Sam would turn back, he didn't know if he would at all. What if he was stuck like this? He jumped when the wolf-Sam-began growling low and deep. The sound was malicious and caused Dean to shiver. It felt as if it spoke of longing to taste blood. He stepped back further and pulled out his phone. He pressed the speed dial for Bobby's number and paced along the dark street. It rang twice before a gritty voice answered. "Hello?" The man greeted tiredly. "Bobby" Dean said. His voice was quick and panicked and higher pitched than normal. Yeah, he was freaking out. "Dean? Everything okay, boy?" He asked worriedly. Dean released a dry, humorless chuckle and rested his hand on his forehead.

"Nothing is okay right now." He responded. He heard Bobby adjust himself as if he was still waking up. "What happened?" He asked slowly. Dean shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. How the hell was he supposed to explain this? "Witch hunt went bad. Before we killed her, she...got to Sam." He hesitated and held his breath waiting for Bobby to speak. "He isn't-?" Bobby began fearfully. Dean waved his hand even though he knew Bobby couldn't see it. "No, no, he's alive. She cursed him." Bobby sighed in relief on the other end of the call. "What'd she do?" Bobby asked business-like. There was still dread in his voice, but not nearly as much since he knew Sam wasn't dead. Dean flicked his eyes up to the sky and kept them focused on the increasingly bright moon. He wanted to scream every word in the book at that thing until his lungs no longer worked. Although, common sense told him it was the witch that did this to Sam, not some stupid hunk of rock in space. "Well, for starters, he's in the trunk of the impala." Dean shared the information with fake casualness. 

He cringed when Sam began howling, a drawn out, haunting sound. It was somewhere between music, beautiful and dreadful at the same time, and the sound you would hear in a horror movie right before the blonde chick has her throat mutilated. "And now he's howling. Loudly." Dean added with a raised voice and a cranky, sarcastic tone. He was so tired of bad shit happening to them. There was silence from Bobby's end, but he could vividly imagine the gaping mouth of the bearded man. When Bobby finally spoke, there was wonder, disbelief, and fear mixed into his deep voice. "I can hear that." He grumbled sarcastically. "THAT'S Sam?! Boy, you better get to explaining. Now." He ordered moodily. Dean sucked in a deep breath and explained everything that happened in the car to Bobby. By the time he had finished, Sam's howling had died down to irritated growls and a discontented bark here and there. It didn't get any less weird as time passed. 

"Holy hell." Bobby exclaimed under his breath. Dean pressed his lips together. "Yeah. Any ideas on how to fix him? Or even what I should do now? I can't keep him in the trunk forever and I'm freezing my ass off out here." Bobby mumbled something under his breath about "damn idjits who couldn't stay out of trouble." He took a minute of what Dean suspected was mulling the situation over. "I'll research werewolf curses, but I can't make any promises. I've never heard of something like this. For right now, I'd just say get in the car, blast the heater, and hope like hell he turns back. I'll call you if I've got somethin'." Bobby assured him with a determined voice with just a hint of affection and worry that he allowed Dean to detect. "Thanks, Bobby." Dean said sincerely as he hung up the phone. For a moment he just stood there watching his breath swirl in the air before entering the drivers seat of the impala.

As soon as the door creaked closed, Sam went nuts from the trunk. The fact that he had to think of a wolf as Sam was just as nuts. He growled angrily and scrabbled and barked and howled. At one point, Dean was beginning to think he was body slamming himself against the inner walls of the trunk. Dean had tried covering his ears, even considered sprinting to the nearest corner store to buy ear plugs, but eventually, he was fed up. It was around three in the morning when he slammed his head against the head rest of his seat and threw his arms up in defeat. "Alright, Sam, you win! Apparently even as a wolf you're attitude is annoying as hell! Well, little brother, I've got a present for you!" Dean yelled pointedly to his wolf-brother. His rage and irritation had been growing by the second as he became more sleep deprived. This was supposed to be his day off and he had to spend the night listening to a blood-thirsty wolf tear up his trunk. Yeah, he was extremely worried about Sam, but the anxiety only added to his irritation. For just a second, the noise stopped. Obviously the wolf had heard him over its own deafening howls.

With a slightly maniacal laugh, he was REALLY sleep deprived, Dean turned on his mix tape, yes, he had a mix tape, shutup, and turned the nob all the way up. Thunderstruck was blasting in his ears and as painful as it was straining his ears too this extent, his lips spread into a toothy grin because it almost drown out the sound of Sam's growling. He crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair, and gave himself a mental pat on the back. That is, before he realized Sam was whining in pain from the trunk. His eyes widening with realization, he quickly spun the nob down all the way and froze. Shit, he had forgotten canines practically had super hearing. He scrubbed a hand over his face and resisted the sob rising in his throat. He just wanted this over and now he had hurt Sam. "Sorry, Sammy, I'm so sorry, man. You alright?" He raised his voice just barely above normal speaking level. The apology was sincere enough to make his chest ache. None of this was Sam's fault and he really didn't fucking mean to hurt him. The wolf seemed to recover and released a low growl that reverberated in the car. Even after hours of hearing it, it gave Dean chills because it was just so...animal. It revealed no recognition of the voice and definitely no hint that the animal was once his brother.

The growls grew louder and Sam began scratching again. "Really didn't mean to hurt you, Sammy, but two can play at this game, bitch." Dean raised his voice agitatedly and turned the nob slower this time. He turned it up just enough that Sam's slightly terrifying growls were still heard and the music made relaxing a bit easier.

As the night went on, Sam's desperate noises and clawing never faltered, that is until Dean spotted the first light of the sunrise. There was a whine and a few sharp whimpers from the back. Dean shot up and muted the music. "Sammy?" He called without attempting to hide the fear in his voice. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest. "Dea-?" A weak, muffled voice answered and was cut off by a fit of coughing. Dean lit up with hope. Without hesitating, he ran from the car and flung the trunk open. He released a sigh at the sight of a shivering, tired looking Sam curled up with dark rings around his eyes. Dean's eyes shot up when the relieved fog in his mind cleared and he registered the tattered remains of Sam's clothes in the trunk. Luckily, his knees were drawn up to his chest due to the tight quarters and Dean didn't see anything that would have made the day even more awkward. "Hold on" he told Sam as he walked to the side of the car. He pulled a blanket out of the back seat (he had never been more grateful that he had one) and returned to Sam. When Sam was again in sight, Dean threw the blanket over his trembling form. Sam's eyes were wide and darting all around.

"What the hell?" Sam croaked quietly. His voice sounded horrible. Dean leant down on one knee to be at eye level with Sam. He shot his brother a sympathetic look. Dean opened his mouth to talk, but the second a sound left his mouth, Sam cringed and his expression scrunched in apparent pain. He wrapped himself tighter in the blanket and groaned. Before he had the chance to ask what was wrong, Sam answered in his sand-papery voice. "Too loud. Ears hurt." He nearly yelped. Dean immediately stood and backed up. "Yeah, sorry, the ears are probably my fault. The throat, however, is all you, Sammy." He attempted to joke in a hushed whisper. Sam's frightened eyes met his. "Dean, what happened?" He nearly pleaded for the information. The kid seemed close to a panic attack. Dean pursed his lips and eyed his brother anxiously. He had no idea when Sam would turn back, but he couldn't just leave him in the trunk forever. It was at that moment that Sam chose to turn his head and notice the many, deep claw marks littering the trunk. Dean bit his lip and held back the whine of horror he felt in the pit of his stomach. Not his fault, not his fault.  
Sam's mouth gaped in terror at what he was seeing. "Dean, what's going on?!" He suddenly yelled and tensed at the loudness of his own voice. 

Dean smoothed over his expression and held his palms out. "I'll explain...let's just get you in the front seat first, okay?" He lifted his eyebrows and took a step forward. Sam nodded in agreement with a clenched jaw. Dean carefully helped him out of the trunk and with visibly shaking legs he made it to the passenger seat. Their doors creaked shut and Sam immediately turned to him. "Explain." Sam ordered with tightly pressed lips and a furrowed brow. Dean blew out a breath and nervously scratched at his scalp. "What do you remember?" He asked. Sam gave him a confused look and bit his lip. He shrugged and kept his eyes on Dean. "We were talking after the witch hunt. You looked like you were about to piss yourself with excitement from a job well done. Then I-just-woke up? In the trunk? Naked?" The last few words were implied questions with just a bit of hysteria. Dean rubbed his eyes with his hand and growled irritatedly. "Woah, dude, since when do you growl when you're frustrated?" Sam questioned with his most patronizing bitchface. Dean plastered a falsely sweet grin on his face and shot back "I learned it from you, doggy brain." Sam's brow furrowed at the words.

"What?" He asked. Dean rolled his eyes. He really wished Sam hadn't friggin' forgotten. "Look, it would be a hell of a lot easier to explain if you remembered, so can you at least try?" Sam's shoulders slumped at this and he closed his eyes in concentration. "Take your time, sweetheart." Dean teased with a tired smirk. "Shutup." Sam replied without flinching. Dean settled in his chair as he waited and fidgeted with the radio buttons. "Wait" Sam suddenly spoke. Dean turned to him. "I-I got angry. And then we started to think the witch cursed me." He stated with a wavering voice. "That it?" Dean chimed in. Sam shook his head and his body tensed. "Shit" he cursed under his breath. Dean straightened his back and Sam's eyes opened. He stared holes into the dashboard. "I figured out that the witch cursed me to be a-a werewolf, I just somehow knew, and then-" Sam's mouth worked as he shuddered from the memory. "And then my bones were breaking or something. Worst pain I've ever felt." Dean leaned forward as he clung to Sam's words. Damn, that did not sound like fun. From Sam's pale complexion and suddenly trembling fingers, it hadn't been.

"You remember anything after that?" He prodded. Sam turned to him wide eyed. "I was a wolf. I...couldn't control myself. All I wanted was to get out of that damn trunk and run-" Sam had begun to speak passionately as if he still wanted those things, but his face then fell and he was engulfed with what appeared to be shock as he swallowed several times. "I wanted to kill. Shit, Dean, I wanted to kill someone. You, actually, once I heard you talking." He dropped his eyes as his breathing sped up in a panic. Dean reached forward and laid a hand on his brother's shaking shoulder. "Wasn't you, man." He assured him confidently. Sam nodded gratefully, but like he didn't really believe him. His expression suddenly turned annoyed and he stared Dean in the eye. "You're the reason my ears feel like hell right now." He accused as his eyes narrowed. Dean's mouth twitched as he held back a laugh and retreated to his own seat. "Sorry, I really forgot about the canine hearing thing. I've never had a dog before, Sammy. Speaking of, think I should get you one of those cute name tags or your collar?" He asked as seriously as he could force himself to. Sam rolled his eyes and grinned a bit sadly, but it was something. "Jerk." He pointed the name at Dean as he turned to face the windshield. "Bitch." Dean automatically replied. 

Dean started the engine and Sam flinched, but remained composed. "First we'll get you some clothes, then we'll figure out how to fix this, Kay, Sammy?" Dean promised sincerely. Sam nodded and sighed exhaustedly. Dean had almost forgot the kid got as much sleep as he did, plus all of his bones breaking and realigning. They really needed to figure this out.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam and Dean were lounging in their motel room. Sam was typing vigorously away at his laptop while Dean was contacting every hunter he knew to pick their brains about witch curses and werewolves. After both of them had come up with squat, Dean anxiously rubbed a hand over his face and resisted the urge to break something. Sam let out a long groan of despair. "We'll find something, Sammy. I'll check in with Bobby in a little bit. First I'd like to get something to eat though. You hungry?" He asked Sam casually. Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Starving." He answered simply. Dean stood and grabbed his keys. "What're you craving, furball?" Dean smirked to himself at his joke, but Sam rolled his eyes dramatically. He shrugged his shoulders and dropped his gaze to the floor. "Burger?" He requested hopefully. Dean stopped and eyed him suspiciously. "What, you mean none of your rabbit food crap?" He said. Sam shrugged again and ran his tongue over his lips. He flicked his eyes to Dean then back down. He spoke quietly as if ashamed. "I think its a werewolf thing. Or something. Remember how I went crazy when you got in the car last night?"

Dean nodded with more than a little worry. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear whatever Sam was about to say. Sam clasped his hands together and adjusted himself in his seat. "Well...it was because...you smelled good." He finished awkwardly. His face had deepened with a red blush. Dean slowly sat back down in his chair without letting his eyes leave Sam. "Good as in-?" Dean pried for more information. This was not going to be fun to hear. Sam's brow creased as he spoke. "Good enough to eat." He finished darkly and with exposed shame. dean felt his eyes go wide and began feeling a little lightheaded. "Damn, Sammy, here I was thinking it was because wolf-you is just my number one fan." He forced the joke past his lips in an attempt to rid Sam's expression of the self loathing and horror it held. Sam relaxed a bit and continued. "I mean it though. I think I just like meat now. A lot. Well, wolf-me wanted human meat, but obviously that's not gonna happen...sooo yeah. Burger." He trailed off in the explanation.

Dean twirled the keys in his hand in what he hoped appeared to be a nonchalant manner as strode to the door. Sam stood as well and began following him with his head down. Dean held out a hand to stop him. "Maybe you should stick around here. I mean, just in case you..." Dean gestured with his hand meaninglessly, hoping Sam would get the point. "In case I get a craving for people?" He finished sadly. Dean quickly rushed to correct his mistake. "No, no, we don't know for sure when you'll turn and I just think it'd be best if you didn't sprout fur in public, know what I mean?" Dean clarified. Sam perked up a bit and nodded. Dean nodded back and said "see yah soon." Before closing the door and making his way to the impala.

\----------------------------------

When Dean returned to the motel, it was about and hour or two away from sundown. If he had been waiting for the burgers any longer, he would have just said screw it and raced back to the motel. Sam had turned just after night fall before and he had to make sure if he turned again, he didn't escape the confines of the motel room. He walked into the room with a triumphant grin and the bag of burgers held high. "Burgers, Sammy! Is your dog nose going crazy yet?" He placed the bag on the table and looked all around the room. He didn't see Sam anywhere. Shit. He swung open the bathroom door and turned in a wide circle. He froze at the sound of a pained groan. He barely noticed the not-human-shaped lump under the covers of Sam's bed. With a pounding heart and sweaty palms, he tiptoed to the side and ripped the blanket away. His knees nearly gave out with relief.

"Dammit, Sam. You almost gave me a heart attack." He snapped. Sam was curled in a tight ball with his knees drawn up to his chest and he was trembling. His skin was slick with sweat and his breath was coming in short gasps. Dean stroked Sam's hair with his hand and gave him a sympathetic look. "You alright?" He asked knowingly. Sam shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Dean patted him on the shoulder and spoke. "I'm gonna call Bobby and see if he's got anything." Sam nodded slowly as his eyelids drooped. Dean pulled the covers back over his weak body and exited the motel door. He took out his phone and called Bobby. "Please tell me you've got something." Dean pleaded before Bobby could greet him. "I'm getting there. I found an idea, a theory really. I'm just trying to figure out the details." Bobby informed him. Dean began pacing nervously in front of the motel door.

"Alright, well what is it? I think Sam's turning soon and I need something quick because me and a bloodthirsty werewolf in a cheap motel room? I don't think it will be pretty." The words bubbled from his mouth in a panic. He didn't know what to do. He had a feeling he wouldn't be able to fight Sam off without hurting him, which he definitely did not want to do, but he couldn't risk him getting out and killing someone. Plus the trunk had been torn up pretty good the previous night and Dean had a feeling it wouldn't hold Sam as well this time around. "Well long story short, it's a type of symptom reducer. You're supposed to mix a piece of hair from the human side and a piece of fur from the wolf side, mix it in with a bit of his blood, and have him drink it." Dean shuddered at the visualization of Sam drinking his own blood. Dean's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by symptom reducer?" Dean asked as the nervous pacing slowed. "If I understand this right, it should make him a little more human than he would have been. He'll still turn, but I'm thinking he'll look more like the werewolves we're used to and hopefully that will make his mind less animal too. That's it, Dean. I haven't found a cure yet. Nothing even close." Bobby said regretfully. 

Dean was still grateful. Anything that would help their situation was appreciated. "Thanks, Bobby. I'll get the fur tonight and have him drink the spell juice or whatever tomorrow. That's really all there is to it?" He asked. His voice was a bit more enthusiastic now that he had something to try, hope. Bobby agreed and wished Dean good luck. Dean flipped his phone closed and sighed deeply. How the hell was he supposed to get a piece of fur off an animal that was gonna be trying to kill him? With trepidation and tense muscles, he re-entered the motel room. "Good news, Sammy. We've got something we can try tomorrow." Dean chirped with all of the optimism he could muster. Sam slowly withdrew the blanket and watched Dean with blurry, unfocused eyes. "Wha'is it?" He slurred tiredly. Dean stuffed his hands in his pockets and nervously bounced on the balls of his feet. The sun was gonna go down real soon and the night's outcome was unpredictable. 

"It's supposed to help. Maybe give you a little more control over yourself. The only complicated part is that we need a piece of your wolf fur." Dean admitted unhappily. Sam narrowed his eyes and creased his brow. He sat up in the bed with a groan. "But wait, how are you gonna get it? Speaking of, how are we dealing with this tonight? Trunk?" He wondered. Dean released a nervous chuckle that seemed to stress Sam out more. "Trunk wouldn't hold another night. There's only a handful of people checked into this dump and I'm pretty sure at least half of them are stoned, so we shouldn't get too many questions about the noise. Still not sure about the fur though. I'm mostly hoping a piece will just fall of while you're going crazy and I'll find it in the morning." Dean answered with a lack of confidence in the plan.

Sam's lips parted as he addressed Dean. "Are you getting another room or something?" His voice revealed that he already knew the answer, but planned on debating it. Dean shook his head and gave a mischievous grin. "Guess I'm gonna find out what it's like to have a dog." He announced as he flopped down onto his bed. Sam clenched his jaw and seemed to be concentrating. "I wanted to kill you the other night. If you stay in here, I might do just that, Dean. That or you'll have to kill me to protect yourself." Sam argued with a shrug that dared Dean to try to prove him wrong. Dean sat up and stared him in the eye. "I'm not killing anyone tonight, Sam. And neither are you. I've gotta be in here to make sure you don't get out. If we have to wrestle a little, so be it. I'll be ready." He said with unwavering determination. Sam eyed him helplessly like he desperately wanted a counter argument, but couldn't think of one. Dean lifted an eyebrow as he fell back on the bed. He knew he had won.

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As the sun began sinking, Sam was fearfully pacing the small room with stiff muscles and jerky movements. He kept glancing out of the window and every time his focus returned to the room, he appeared more panicked. Dean was perched on the edge of his bed tapping his feet as he unsuccessfully tried to appear calm. His brother was about to transform into a big ass wolf that was hungry for human meat. He had the right to be a little worried. When Dean glanced up, Sam was running his fingers threw his hair. Sam jumped when he spoke. "Do me a favor, Sammy, try your damnedest to remember me. It'd make the night a hell of a lot easier if you didn't try to kill me." Sam's face twisted with rage. He threw his hands up and balled his fists like he was ready for a fight. "What, and I wasn't trying to remember last night?! If I could, I WOULD, Dean. I wouldn't intentionally try to kill someone, damn!" He finished with an angry yelp as he returned to pacing. Dean's heart sped up. He was getting angry again, which meant they were only minutes away now.

Dean wrung his hands together and tried to ignore the sudden dryness of his tongue. After a moment of thinking, he stood and inched his way to Sam. "You gonna hit me, Dean? Go ahead, I fucking dare y-" he stopped mid-sentence when Dean trapped him in a meaningful hug. Sam's arms almost reluctantly dropped and then tightened around Dean's back. After a second Sam's breath hitched from a stifled sob. "It's okay, Sammy. It'll be okay. We'll figure this out, man. You'll be alright." Dean soothed in his ear. He longed to make a sarcastic remark about chick flick moments or being sappy, but now wasn't the time. Sam was afraid. Dean could tell this by the frantic beating of his heart. Dean rubbed Sam's back gently and squeezed his eyes shut. Sam leaned into the hug and buried his face in Dean's shoulder. "Sorry." Sam mumbled into his jacket. Dean simply shook his head and pulled away. Sam's eyes were glistening with unshed tears that twisted Dean's gut. Sam flicked his eyes to the side and avoided Dean's gaze. "Should we...lock me in the bathroom or something?" He asked helplessly. How his giant of a brother could make himself appear so small and vulnerable, he would never be able to figure out.

"Nah. I feel like putting you in a smaller area will only make you freak out more. Plus if you break the door down it'd really suck." Dean replied with a chuckle. Sam's lips twitched up and he wiped his nose. His face contorted with pain suddenly. "Gaahh!" Sam grunted as he fell to the floor. Dean stepped back and focused on controlling his breathing. He gave Sam some space and retreated to the far back wall. "Here we go." He whispered to himself. He made himself as still as possible as he watched Sam struggle on the ground. He writhed and twitched in apparent agony and Dean forced his eyes to not leave him. Sam suddenly let out a whimper and chills ran up Dean's arms. "Dean!" Sam cried out as a tear slipped from his eye and soaked into his disheveled hair. Dean bit his lip so hard, he was sure it was bleeding. This hurt so fucking bad to watch. He couldn't even imagine the pain. Sam moaned and panted for breath as he twisted on the stained carpet.

Sam suddenly froze, the twisting stopped and he sucked in desperate, shallow breaths. "Sam?" Dean addressed as he took a worried step forward. Sam's back suddenly arched at an almost impossible angle and he screamed with everything he had in him. Dean clenched his eyes shut and stumbled back as he pressed his palms into his ears. He held his breath and Sam sobbed louder than he ever had. Dean pulled his eyes open and there was blood dripping onto the carpet from Sam's mouth. The four, pointed teeth were sticking out and his stomach turned at the sight of the others growing and reshaping in the gums. His fingernails were gone, replaced by dark, pointed claws that were ripping up the carpet. Sam's body convulsed and something, or several something's, snapped with enough force to make him jerk. He let out another deafening scream and Dean slid uselessly to the floor. He was pumping with adrenaline and horror that would be burned into his mind for the rest of his life.

Just as Dean noticed the brown, shaggy fur sprouting from Sam's skin with accompanying drops of thick blood, he sprung forward. He was now inches away from Sam as he reached his arm out. Sam's scream halted. His mouth was opened, but the sound just wasn't there. He supposed the throat was reforming. Sam stared him pleadingly in the eyes as Dean whipped out his pocket knife and quickly sawed off a thin chunk of fur. "I'm so sorry, Sammy" he croaked miserably as he stuffed the fur in his jacket pocket and retreated to the wall. Sam's face twisted and his pained whimper shifted to an animalistic whine. Sam's face elongated with several loud pops and the tearing of irritated skin. Dean thought he was gonna be sick. His skin was crawling and he had to look away. There was one last whine and Dean slowly turned back. His head was swimming and slower than it should have been. His stomach was still churning and maybe he really was gonna be sick.

Sam was an oddly beautiful wolf. His dark brown, almost black, thick fur was spotted with lighter, chocolate browns and his eyes were like liquid pools of luminescent honey. He was a bit smaller than his human shape, probably a little under Dean's size, but he was still one huge, intimidating wolf. He was so transfixed and in awe that he almost missed the way Sam was watching him. Like a starving predator. Dean took a deep breath and remained still as he watched Sam right back. "Sam." He commanded the wolf to give him his full attention in his most authoritative voice. The wolf lifted it's sharply focused eyes to him and its lip pulled back menacingly. It bared its pristine, impressively sharp teeth and growled warningly. Welp, Here went nothing. "You better fucking remember me. I mean it, Sam." He demanded with a swelled chest. Honestly, he had no idea what he was doing. This was an awful plan. If it was considered a plan at all.

The wolf's fur stood up on it's back and it tensed its thick muscles. Dean straightened his shoulders and prepared to stand his ground as the wolf growled again and took a step forward. Crap. Sam narrowed his eyes and leaped gracefully in the air right in Dean's direction. Dean jumped to the side and collided with the floor. Pain shot up his shoulder and he grunted. Sam twisted back around and slowly stalked forward. His head bent down to meet Dean's eyes and he gave a quiet snarl. An idea sparked in Dean's head. Without a second to think as Sam yet again sprung forward, Dean mentally apologized and swung his fist out with all of the force he had. His fist cracked against Sam's jaw and the wolf stumbled back with a shocked whine. Dean leapt to his feet and nearly flew to the Minnie fridge. He opened the door and desperately scanned the contents. He had completely forgotten about the leftover burgers he had stored in there. Dean made a noise of triumph as he spotted the bag. He snatched if up and turned back just in time for Sam to recover from the blow. He shook his head to the side once and snarled with rage.

Dean frantically plunged his hand into the bag and it emerged with a soggy burger patty with a few bites taken out of it. He dropped the bag carelessly and waved the meat while wiggling his eyebrows. "Looks good, huh? If your a good little wolf-brother, maybe I'll share." He taunted with a half shrug. Sam's eyes flicked from Dean to the burger as he seemed to make a decision. He bowed his head and avoided eye contact. Dean barked out a relieved laugh and caught his breath. Maybe he could make it through this night. Sam seemed to get impatient as his chest rumbled in a deep growl. Feeling as if he shouldn't push his luck, Dean tossed the patty in the air and Sam caught it in one confidant move. He quickly chewed and swallowed hungrily. Dean awaited Sam's next move as he observed the wolf cautiously. It appeared Sam was craving something a little stronger when Sam sniffed the air and pounced without warning.

Before Dean could process the information, he was rolling on the floor, his only view being of fur and teeth. He felt himself begin to panic and shielded his face with his arms. He just had to keep moving. He had to get Sam off him. Dean tossed his body in every direction attempting to throw the weight of the wolf off of him, but Sam defied his actions without much effort. Sam snarled and sunk his teeth into Dean's shoulder. Dean yelped and jerked away. This was bad. "Sam! Stop!" He desperately screeched, but Sam didn't falter. He could feel himself being scratched into by freshly sharpened claws attempting to dig through his arm and uncover his throat. Sam barked deeply and growled in frustration. As a last effort, Dean jutted his leg out and kicked as hard as he could. Sam whimpered and fell back. Dean quickly jumped to his feet and ignored the fact that the room was spinning. Sam was sprawled out on the carpet whining in pain. Dean felt a stab of guilt and sympathy. He carefully walked to Sam and kneeled beside him. The wolf growled weakly, but didn't attempt to move. Dean panted and dropped into a sitting position.

He stroked Sam's fur and whispered that he was sorry and he didn't want to do it. The rest of the night was spent with Sam whining every now and then, but still too injured to move, and Dean petting him as he apologized over and over again. Sam simply glared up at him with hunger and rage. He didn't know how he knew he was glaring, he just did. By time the sun rose, Dean was exhausted. His eyes were barely opened and he was so flooded with guilt that he wanted to scream. He jumped to his feet when Sam began shifting and whimpering. Unable to watch again, he turned his back and attempted to block and the whines and screams. When he was sure Sam was himself again, Dean tugged the comforter off his bed and laid it over Sam's sweating body. He leaned down and ran his fingers through Sam's hair comfortingly. Sam's eyes groggily fluttered open. His expression immediately became confused. "Dude, are you petting me?" He asked tiredly. Dean was so overwhelmed with the joy of having Sam back that he wanted to cry.

He laughed and nodded. "Yeah. Becoming a habit I guess." He said lightly as he withdrew his hand. Sam snuggled into the blanket and closed his eyes like he was gonna fall back asleep. Dean gently shook his shoulder. "No, stay awake. Come on, man. I gotta make sure you're okay." Dean practically begged. Apparently noticing the panic in his voice, Sam blinked and sat up. He looked around in a daze and tugged at the blanket. "What-?" He began to ask, but stopped. He stared at Dean and mouthed "oh". Dean rested his hand on the back of Sam's head. "You alright? I got you pretty good." He said with an unmissable apology in the words. Sam shook his head minutely. "You did what you had to do. And yeah, I feel fine. I think when my bones were realigning, it was healed." He stated uncertainly. Dean nodded and allowed a minute for Sam to catch his breath. 

"Alright, let's hit the road. We'll have you drink the anti-wolf cocktail on the way." He announced cheerily as he got to his feet. Sam cocked his head to the side. "Where are we going?" He asked curiously. Dean took him by the elbow and helped him up as he responded. "I figured if we head out early enough, we can make it to Bobby's a few hours before sunset. That way we'll have somewhere safer to do this and he can help us figure out a real cure." Dean explained as he began packing his things. "Dude, you've barely slept in two days." Sam argued. Dean turned to him solemnly. "That's why we have to get there. We're gonna have to become nocturnal if we don't get there soon." Sam snorted and wrapped the blanket tighter around him. He opened his mouth in a wide yawn and nodded his head in acceptance. Dean grinned cockily. "Damn, you must be tired if you're not arguing about something." Dean teased. Sam muttered "shutup" and took his clothes with him into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, they were on the road.

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	3. Chapter 3

The long drive was like any other. Ear-blasting music of Dean's pick, Sam could shut the hell up because Dean had to deal with his LITERAL whining two nights in a row, greasy fast food, and Dean's incredible wit that Sam pretended not to be entertained by. The only difference was that they were both more sleep deprived than usual and there was a time limit to their drive of sunset. Dean was enjoying some Metallica when Sam caught his attention. "I need a cup or something." He informed Dean. He thought for a moment and tried to remember if he had a cup anywhere. He tiredly mumbled "dashboard" and Sam scavenged through it. He wore a tight look of concentration as he shuffled things around in search. "You've got some weird shit in here." He commented a bit grumpily. Dean shrugged and forced his eyes to remain open. He really could use some sleep. Or coffee. Sam finally pulled out a small, clean shot glass and snapped the dashboard shut. He observed it for a moment, turning it in his fingers with far more fascination than he normally would have.

"Quit stalling." Dean snapped without any real heat. Sam shot him a bitch face and leaned back with a huff. "You're not the one who has to drink this, Dean." Sam reminded him. Dean blinked and pursed his lips. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the several strands of brown fur. He dropped them into the empty shot glass and returned his eyes to the road. "Bottoms up, sunshine." He chimed. Sam raised an eyebrow at him and scoffed. He narrowed his eyes at the fur and stared at it oddly. Dean grunted impatiently. "Dude, just get it over with." He moaned. "I'm not stalling, it's just...weird." Sam replied. Dean's brow creased. "Which part? This is all pretty friggin' weird, man." He commented. Sam reached his fingers into his hair and plucked out a few strands as he spoke. "I had fur...I mean knowing it is one thing, but actually seeing proof...I don't know, it's just a lot to take in, the whole werewolf thing." He lifted a pocket knife and set the shot glass on his lap.

Dean would say he understood, but he really didn't. He had no idea what Sam was going through. He had two nights to see and process the situation and think over ways to fix it, but Sam was actually living it. He woke up in the mornings confused and in a daze until the memories of being a wolf returned to him. He had to keep going knowing when the sun went down, he would turn into a wild animal and try to kill his brother...again. Although in all fairness, Dean was pretty sure he had cracked Sam's ribs with that kick. At least the lucky bastard's wounds from the night healed. Dean just couldn't wait to get to   
Bobby's so Sam could be locked up. Even though it was gonna suck and he was probably gonna drown the guilt in alcohol. One wolf bite was enough for him. He glanced over to see Sam making a long cut in his palm with well concealed pain on his features. The blood dripped in a thin stream into the shot glass and more than coated the hairs. He sloppily wrapped his hand in a bandage and held the shot glass up to eye level.

Sam glared at it with disgust and groaned. "This is gonna freaking suck." He complained. Dean cringed at the sight of the less than appetizing drink. Sam clenched his eyes shut and threw his head back, drinking the contents. Dean quickly looked away and had to breath shallowly to avoid gagging. Sam made a choking sound, but kept the liquid down. "You good?" Dean asked without turning to him. Sam made a noncommittal noise. He coughed a few times and asked "what's next?" Dean tapped his fingers against the steering wheel and turned to him. "We wait." He answered. Sam's brow furrowed. "That's it? That's all there is to it?" Sam said a bit incredulously. Dean shrugged his shoulders and winced at the pain of the bite near his collar bone. "It's not exactly written in stone that it will even do anything." He didn't want Sam getting his hopes up. He needed him to understand that this was not a cure.

Sam nodded comprehendingly, though his expression was worried. "What's wrong with your shoulder?" He asked. Crap. Dean tilted his chin up defiantly. "Nothing, what's wrong with yours?" He shot back sarcastically. If Sam didn't remember biting him, there was no reason for him to find out. The kid had enough on his plate as it was. Sam narrowed his eyes. "Dean" he began. "Did I hurt you?" He asked in a small, hopeless voice. Dean tightened his grip on the wheel and kept his features neutral. "It's just a bite. No big deal, Sammy." He reassured. Sam's eyes widened and his expression tensed miserably. He wrung his hands nervously in his lap. "I bit you? But what if that turns you? That's how normal werewolves transmit it!" He exclaimed with sudden fear and anguish. Dean waved the words away carelessly. "Key word being 'normal', Sammy. You were cursed, not bitten. I would be pretty surprised if the witch made it transmittable since she made you so different from normal werewolves." He said in his most calm voice.

Sam seemed to temporarily accept the theory, probably too tired to debate, and they drove on. "By the way, you better keep me posted. You get a mood swing, crave human hearts, grow a tail, any of that, you better let me know." He added sternly. Sam grunted something about being bossy and leaned against the door comfortably.

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The next few hours passed without many exchanged words. The sounds of the rumbling engine and the quiet lull of classic rock drowned out Dean's thoughts, his worries, as he focused on the road and nothing else. Sam had been resting his head against the cool glass of the window as he napped peacefully. Dean didn't want to think about how exhausted he must have been after everything. Sam suddenly shifted in his seat and his forehead crinkled. His eyes remained shut as he snapped tiredly. "Dammit, Dean. 'M trying to sleep. Turn the music down." Dean's mind worked as he processed Sam's words. The volume was so low that he could barely hear it. What was Sam talking about? "Dude, music IS down. If I turn it down any more, it'll be off." Dean stated slowly. Why did he get a bad feeling about this? Oh yeah, maybe because their lives sucked and bad things were always happening. Sam pried his eyes open groggily and immediately squeezed them shut with a moan. He reached up his hands and dug his palms into them.

"What is it?" Dean asked worriedly. Sam shook his head once uncertainly. "I'm not sure" he mumbled. Dean kept his eyes on the road as Sam slowly pulled his hands away from his eyes. There was a look of confusion possessing his features. He blinked hard several times and scanned the car. He swallowed and turned to look at Dean. "I think Everything is louder...and brighter. It's kind of overwhelming." He admitted in slight awe. Dean's brow furrowed. Things just got better and better. Did the potion actually make him MORE wolfy? "Awesome" he muttered sarcastically. He guessed Bobby's 'symptom reducer' was a bust. Sam squirmed in the seat trying to find a comfortable position. "Maybe it creates some kind of balance. It might be making me more wolfy during the day so that I'm more human at night?" He theorized optimistically as he scooted uncomfortably in the seat. Dean shook his head irritatedly and ignored Sam's restlessness. "I don't know, man. We need to just find a cure and be done with this." He stated. Sam agreed with a snort from his side and stilled. Dean's body surprisingly relaxed. He hadn't realized how tense Sam's squirming had made him.

He felt something snap when Sam huffed impatiently and began scooting around, again unable to remain comfortable. "Dude, what the hell?" He yelled angrily. Sam swallowed a lump and hunched his shoulders. Dean mentally thanked the universe for making him sit still. It had been driving him nuts. This was yet another reason Dean would never own a dog. Not only would it be in his baby, it would be whining and constantly moving in circles trying to get comfortable and it would just drive him insane.he glanced over at Sam oddly when he whimpered once so quietly that he almost didn't notice. Without hesitation Dean pressed down on the break and pulled over to the side of the road. Sam perked up at this and glanced out of all of the windows. Dean commanded "get in the back." Without taking his eyes off the steering wheel. Sam seemed a bit stunned as his lips parted in confusion. His brow creased with incomprehension. "But...why?" He asked almost incredulously. This was probably the first time Dean had banished him to the back.

He flexed his fingers over the steering wheel as he considered how to word this. He bit his lip and prayed that Sam would understand. "Because, dude, you've got a dog brain and you'll be more comfortable back there. Your squirming is driving me crazy." He explained. Sam glared at him and looked around like he expected someone to tell him it was a joke. "What? That doesn't make any sense." He complained. Dean turned his head slightly and eyed Sam irritatedly. He sighed and said "dude, just get in the back. We're almost at Bobby's and you'll see what I mean." He forced authority into his voice that made it clear this was the end of the discussion. Sam clenched his jaw before sliding out of the front seat and into the back. Dean drove on, checking on Sam through his mirror every few minutes. At first he sat straight up staring out the window with crossed a arms like he was proving a point, but as the time stretched, Dean looked back to see Sam crammed into a curled ball breathing quick, but steady. He found himself smirking. He could turn this into so many dog jokes.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam was awoken by something gently shaking his shoulder, but he was tired and longed for the thick fog of sleep to return. He curled tighter in on himself hoping whatever was waking him would leave. When the persistent shaking continued, He felt irritation spiking inside. "Go away. Let me sleep." He wanted to state, but instead a threatening growl reverberated in his chest. Whatever was touching him immediately pulled away and Sam contentedly huffed out a breath. A second later something crashed into his shoulder, but only   
Hard enough to make him angry. He opened his eyes and sat up snarling. Through his blurry eyes, he saw a figure step back with its hands up. "Woah, Sammy, calm down." It half soothed, have commanded. Sam blinked and his vision cleared. Dean was outside of the open car door with a wary and shocked expression. "Dean?" Sam addressed tiredly. Dean's face loosened a bit, but now he just seemed worried. He stepped closer and eyed Sam.

He hated being watched like that. Like he was a...well, I wild animal. He guessed that was exactly what he was now. Shame crept over him with an accompanying blush. "Woke you up to see if you wanted to take a bathroom break at a gas station up ahead...but I guess you're a lot less of a morning person now." Dean remarked with a mischievous grin. Sam shook his head quickly and pursed his lips. Dean shrugged and returned to the drivers seat. Sam sat up and leaned against the car door as their drive continued. He found himself getting angrier with each passing minute. At what? He wasn't entirely sure. He racked his mind for an explanation for the sudden urge to hit something and came up blank. Maybe being woken up? No, that was a stupid reason to be mad. He was facing the window and his arms were crossed rightly. His lips were pressed together and he could feel his nails digging painfully into his arm. What he wouldn't have given to have something to rip up and break at that moment.

He sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut. Hadn't Dean told him to let him know if something like this happened? With a quick glance at Dean, Sam got his attention. "Dean." He said reluctantly and with as little heat in his voice as possible. Dean watched him from the rear view mirror and responded "yeah, Sammy?" Sam swallowed hard and attempted to rid himself of the violent thoughts plaguing him. He flexed his fingers and stuttered "I-I'm...mad". Dean blinked once, twice and opened his mouth to speak. "Okay...sorry?" He apologized with confusion and without an ounce of sarcasm. Sam shook his head and grunted as rage seemed to overflow from him. He angrily threw his head back against the seat and tried to control his breathing. "No, you don't get it. I'm REALLY mad. Like the other times." He spat out through his clenched teeth. Dean's eyes widened with understanding and he gestured to the windshield. "But it's still daytime! This can't be happening yet!" He nervously argued as if the words would keep Sam from turning. Sam leaned forward and bared his teeth. "Well obviously it IS happening, Dean!" He snapped. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. Shit, he wanted so badly to hurt something, to tear into something, to DESTROY something. He knew that as much as he pushed it away, it was people he wanted to hurt.

Sam whimpered and let his face fall in his hands. This was bad. This was really bad. It didn't feel the same as the other times though. His skin didn't tingle and itch, he didn't feel like he was about to throw up an organ, and his muscles weren't tensed to the point he was sure they were gonna rip apart. However, he felt the anger and his fingers and gums ached. Suddenly the car jerked forward as the speed increased. Sam looked up to see Dean almost glaring at the road with a stony, determined expression. "Hang in there, Sammy. We'll be at Bobby's soon." He announced loudly. Sam dropped his eyes and tried not to think too much. Dean didn't get it. There was no way to stop this. It was inevitable. He didn't even know how to delay it. He mentally begged Dean to hurry and hoped like hell that when he opened his eyes, they would be pulling into the scrap yard. He had a feeling the cramped space of the car was only further agitating him.

"Oh shit. Perfect." Dean suddenly muttered sarcastically. Sam had to keep his mouth clamped shut to refrain from making a rage fueled comment. The high pitch whine of police sirens grew closer by the second.   
Sam turned to see blue and red lights flashing from the cop car nearing them. Sam's mouth began watering and his mind went wild providing him with images of blood and torn skin and bone and gore. Dean was muttering profanity under his breath as he pulled the car over and frantically turned back to Sam. "How are you holding up?" He asked urgently. Before Sam could hiss whatever cruel words slipped out, pain flared in his gums and fingers. He whimpered and doubled over. He could feel his four canine teeth growing and sharpening to fangs as his fingernails darkened and pointed. He held his new claws in front of him with slight fascination. Dean appeared to be watching wide-eyed and white-faced. Was this all that was changing? He was overwhelmed by crashing waves or rage and bloodlust. He growled and bared his fangs at the man gaping at him in fear. Wait, no, it wasn't just a man. It was Dean, his brother. He forced the thought to remain at the front of his mind. He cut off another growl and shot Dean a look of helplessness and slight confusion.

Dean's eyes darted to Sam's claws inching closer to him. The need to kill was consuming him and shit, it was strong. He quickly dug his claws into his palms until they were bleeding and he cradled them against his chest. His teeth had just finished reforming when the cop sauntered to The driver window and Dean practically jumped from the car and slammed the door shut. Sam sniffed curiously and narrowed his eyes. The cop smelled so good. He smelt like food. With hands shaking from the effort of holding himself back, Sam sat up. Dean appeared to be arguing with the cop and he gestured to the man's car. Sam stared longingly at the cop. As another tsunami of desire and instinct flooded him, he clawed at the door desperately. Everything appeared to be tinged with red and he could hear the cop's heartbeat and he had to get out. Having lost his patience, Sam fisted his hand and punched the window with all of his strength. The second the glass shattered, he leaped and pushed himself through the window. When he stood and glared at the cop, both him and Dean were staring back at him.

"What the hell..." The cop mumbled as he froze with fear. Sam stalked forward gracefully with his focus glued to the man. "Go! Run!" Dean yelled at the cop. The man seemed to think for a moment, then he darted back to his car. Sam snarled and clicked his teeth together as he broke out into a sprint. "Sam! No!" Dean yelped and his voice cracked. The rumble of the cop's car was brief before it skid away. Sam turned to Dean with a swelled chest and eyes tracking his new prey.

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	5. Chapter 5

Dean held out his palms in surrender and his mind raced trying to figure out what the hell to do. Sam was staring at him like how Dean stared at fresh ribs and that was worrying. His long claws were pointed at the ground and his sharp canine fangs were glistening menacingly as Sam lifted his lip in a snarl. Shit. How was Dean supposed to force Sam into the car and get him to be calm for the rest of a drive? Or a more immediate concern, how was he supposed to convince Sam to not kill him? He bit his lip hard. "Sammy? It's me. Please, you gotta snap out of it, dude. Do you understand anything I'm saying?" Dean desperately asked. Sam cocked his head confusedly and narrowed his eyes calculatingly at Dean. So that was probably a no. Sam sniffed the air and moved forward without taking his eyes off Dean. "Shit. Sam! Don't! It's me, Dean!" Dean exclaimed. He didn't know what to do. He was no match for a werewolf without a gun and he would definitely not be using one on his brother.

Sam hesitated and began moving back, a confused look on his face like he was trying to fight it. Dean grinned widely. "That's it, Sam. You can beat this. You're doing good." He encouraged hopefully. Sam eyed him and hid his claws in his fist. Unsure and cautious, he took several quick steps forward. Dean froze as Sam leaned in and slowly sniffed him. Werewolf or not, that was awkward. Dean could feel sweat rolling down his skin and his heart rate increased. This was it. Sam was either gonna kill him or not. Sam pulled back and scanned Dean's face curiously. Without warning, whatever connection he had made to his brother was lost and Sam knocked him over with enough force that Dean felt his head slightly crack on the street. He sucked in a breath and screeched "Sam, st-!" He was cut off as Sam brought down his hand and sliced his claws across Dean's cheek. His hazel eyes were filled with hate and bloodlust that he knew had to be clouding his brother's mind. His nose was crinkled and his forehead creased. An angry snarl was released through the predatory, fang-filled mouth.

Sam pinned down Dean's arms with his legs and dropped his head. Dean yelped and tried not to scream as Sam sunk his teeth into his upper arm. Right next to the other bite. Dean could feel the blood being licked away and Sam's claws dug deeper into his chest when he pulled away. Dean grunted in pain and gritted his teeth. Sam then yanked Dean's arm off the ground and mercilessly bit near the elbow. Dean actually did scream this time and his eyes were beginning to water. "Sam" he panted as a last attempt. Sam sunk his teeth deeper and his face revealed pure pleasure, relief. Sam opened his eyes and dropped the arm. Dean groaned and blinked several times. Without wiping the dripping blood away from his mouth and chin, Sam backed up on all fours. And his eyes flicked apologetically to Dean. His clawed fingers were splayed across the ground and his bangs were falling in his eyes.

Moaning once more in pain, Dean propped himself up on his elbows and slowly wobbled to his feet. Sam stood too and took a step closer. Preparing for another attack, Dean tensed and waited for Sam to kill him this time. What, was he playing with his food? The thought was bitter, but he possibly had a concussion, his cheek was clawed, and he was bitten twice. He thought he was entitled. Sam got closer and bent his head down. He steadily lowered his neck until his forehead was gently resting on the side of Dean's chest, near the shoulder he had bitten. Dean jumped when Sam whimpered softly and snuggled closer. His hands were dropped to his side and the gesture was awkward and unexpected, but Dean understood its meaning. It was an apology. Dean's heart was pounding harshly in his chest and he was still sweating, but this meant something. For the most part, Sam had gained control. He was obviously still an animal, however.

Dean cupped the back of Sam's head with his hand and whispered "it's okay, Sammy. I forgive you." Sam whimpered again and leaned closer. Sam sniffed and suddenly stilled. He grabbed Dean's wrist and dug the claws into his skin. He yelped and almost pulled away until he realized what was going on. Proving his theory, Sam gripped the wrist like a lifetime and lapped up the dark blood. "You're trying not to kill me. Because you're hungry, right?" He theorized. This was one of those moments he really hoped Sam understood him. At first appearing confused, he eventually nodded uncertainly and released Dean's arm. Dean ignored the sting of his fresh wounds and reached out to Sam. The man flinched, but otherwise remained still. As if trying not to spook a wolf animal, which was exactly what was happening, Dean gripped Sam's upper arm and began walking backwards to the impala. Sam resisted and glanced wildly from Dean's face to his hand.

"Ifs okay, Sammy. We've got to get to Bobby's, remember? C'mon, it's okay." Dean soothed. Sam didn't appear to have understood the words, but followed anyways. When they reached the passenger side, Dean opened the door with a loud creak. Sam wrenched himself from Dean's grip and growled quietly at the car. Dean began to panic because Sam looked like he was ready to bolt. "Hey, hey, hey, it's alright. It's just the door. Come on, Sam, please. Just get in, okay? I know you don't understand me all that well right now, but please, just-" He nervously ran his hands through his hair. Sam shot him an innocent, terrified expression that broke Dean's heart. Dean opened the door wider and Sam stiffened. Dean backed up and stated "alright, Sam. Just watch me get in, then you do it. I'm trusting you, man." He sprinted to the other side and slid into the driver's seat, his heart now hammering painfully. Sam could have ran away in those seconds his eyes were off him. Just as he was about to exit the car and proceed to freak out, Sam carefully flopped down on the seat. 

Dean watched him close the door and jump at the noise with immense relief. They could do this. They could make it to Bobby's. Dean shut his door as well and started the engine. Before Sam had a chance to react, Dean reached over and planted a hand on his trembling shoulder. The poor kid seemed to be having a heart attack. Dean had to admit, he never thought he would be calming his werewolf brother down because the engine of his car scared him. He confidently soothed the man with "it's alright, Sammy"'s and "it'll be okay, man"'s. Dean pressed down on the accelerator and got them back on the road. He was a bit shocked when Sam gently lowered his head into Dean's lap in what looked like a slightly uncomfortable position. But hey, whatever calmed him down. Sam's shaking slowly faded as he fell asleep.

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	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the drive was tense for Dean and the air stunk of anxiety. Every minute was another minute of worrying that Sam would freak out and try to kill him. Sure, he had been in control enough to resist eating him, but he also had to bite and claw him several times to achieve it. He shivered whenever his mind strayed back to the image of pure bloodlust and hunger in his baby brother's eyes. As much as he tried to deny it, Sam would have killed that cop. The only reason Dean was breathing was because some part of him recognized that they're family. Sam whimpered in his sleep and Dean couldn't help but to glance down at him. His fangs hung out of his open mouth and his claws were intertwined near his face. His head twitched on Dean's lap as he dreamed. Smirking to himself, Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair. He had to admit, Sam kind of made a cute werewolf. That had to be the weirdest fucking thought he had had in his entire life. His lips twitched and he began to wonder if this whole situation had finally driven him insane. He wouldn't be that surprised.

Relief flooded him as he drove into Bobby's yard and put the impala in park. That relief was put on hold when he realized he now had to wake Sam, get him into the house, and find somewhere to lock him up. He was screwed. He had a feeling getting him in the car was nothing to what was coming next. The second he cut the engine, Sam shot up in his seat wildly scanning his surroundings. Dean froze in his spot waiting for Sam to react. His eyes finally settled on Dean and he sniffed the air once. His eyes widened and his body tensed. Just as Sam readied to lurch forward, Dean made a decision. He tore out his pocket knife and drew a long cut across his forearm. He winced at the pain, but drew the knife deeper until dark blood welled up on his skin. Without an ounce of hesitation or self control, Sam snatched Dean's arm and greedily licked away the blood. He almost jerked away whenever Sam's sharp fangs scraped the wound. It was still disgusting and weird, but it was this or give Sam the chance to seriously injure him. His mind worked differently in that form and he knew that when Sam bit or clawed him, he would be aiming for relieving the hunger and not exactly being too careful about it.

Dean slowly withdrew his arm and Sam whimpered, but leaned back into his seat. There was blood smeared around his lips and dripping down his chin and he didn't bother wiping it away. That made Dean a bit uneasy. He watched Dean with a cocked head and curious eyes, just like a dog, as if waiting. Dean opened his door and sauntered to the back of the car as casually as possible. He had an idea and he was sure Sam wouldn't like it. He lifted open the trunk and sifted through the various weapons and tools until he found what he needed. He hid them behind his back as he opened Sam's door. Sucking in a deep breath, he leaned into the car and clamped the cool metal handcuffs onto Sam's wrists. Sam struggled and writhed in Dean's grip. He snarled and spat and bared his teeth as he attempted to rid himself of the restraints. "Sorry, Sammy..." Dean whispered remorsefully. Sam answered him with an enraged growl deep in his throat. Dean retrieved the thick, empty sack from behind his back and quickly threw it over Sam's head. He continued to growl from behind the sack's fabric and viciously rub his wrists against the handcuffs as Dean took him by the arm and led him out of the car.

The walk there was uncoordinated and clumsy with Sam digging his heels into the ground and swiping his bound hands to try to claw him. Dean huffed out a relieved sigh when he opened the front door and Sam stumbled over the step. In any other situation, he would have made a comment on Sam's gracelessness, but Sam was a werewolf and it looked like Dean was kidnapping him and this was just screwed up. "Bobby?" Dean called out while standing awkwardly by the door. Bobby strolled into the room with a grin. He froze when his eyes tracked to Sam. His face seemed to drop and his lips parted. "What the hell?" He exclaimed. Dean bit his lip uncomfortably. He had forgotten to call Bobby and warn him that Sam would be wolfed out when they arrived. "Sorry, Bobby. The potion you told me about, it did something...well, it did this." He explained as he reached his hand over Sam's head and and grasped the sack. He tugged it off and Sam blinked convulsively at the light. Bobby's eyes grew larger than Dean had ever seen them and he didn't need confirmation to know that he was eyeing Sam's predatory teeth.

He switched his view to Dean and he narrowed his eyes confusedly. "I thought he turned at night?" He phrased the words as a question. Dean shrugged and he felt like every cell in him was shrugging. He didn't know what to do anymore. Bobby nodded like he understood the situation, which was just comforting bullshit. Bobby jerked his head to the side eyeing a lone, brown door. "Well let's get him to the basement so he can't do no harm." Bobby suggested calmly. Dean nodded even though he truly did not want to leave his brother in the basement to rot. He didn't want any of this. Sam growled once at Bobby with that wild animal look in his eyes that Dean had grown to hate. He tightened his grip on Sam's arm and practically dragged him to the door. He guided him down the stairs and carefully released his grip on him. Bobby quickly shut the door above, leaving them in near darkness. Dean bolted to the top of the stairs and Bobby swung the door open for him. He leapt into the light of the hallway and flinched at a crash against the door. 

He felt a flutter of panic as Sam scrabbled and body-slammed into it. He opened his mouth to speak his worry, but seeming to have understood, Bobby cut him off with "May look like just wood, but its reinforced. He's not going nowhere." He assured him. Dean anxiously ran his finger through his hair. He clenched his jaw and fought off the sudden assault of exhaustion effecting him. He began to sway on his feet and felt Bobby steady him with a gentle hand on the shoulder. "Hey, you alright?" He asked worriedly. Dean was caught between nodding again-pretending to be fine-and explaining the sudden weariness. His eyelids drooped and he felt the sudden need to sit. "Woah, hey! Let's get you sat down, Dean." Bobby voiced through the tired haze. He thought he grunted in agreement. The next thing he knew, he was sat on the overly stuffed couch with a mug of coffee wrapped tightly in his hands. He blinked and forced himself to remain awake. 

He mumbled something about patching up his injuries and Bobby arrived at his side with a medical kit faster than he thought possible. Bobby dug into the kit with his large, calloused hands in search of something. Dean grunted and sat forward to set down his mug. He slowly removed his jacket and cringed at the sight of his arm. It now had the scab of a bite on his shoulder, two fresh bites still oozing blood, and the new cut. The bite near his elbow was especially gruesome. He eyed them tiredly and wished with all of his soul that this would just end. They needed to get Sam fixed. "Holy hell, Dean!" Bobby exclaimed, pulling Dean away from his thoughts. Bobby was scanning the wounds with worried, slightly horror-filled eyes. He looked up to Dean and strictly chided "boy, no wonder you can't stand straight. You've lost a hell of a lot of blood. Did you even try to stop the bleeding?" Dean leaned back exhaustedly. "I was a little busy making sure my werewolf brother didn't kill me." He replied with the little heat he could summon. Bobby shook his head muttering something about being a "damn stupid idjit". For a while they sat in silence with Dean barely conscious until Bobby spoke up. "So if he already got his teeth into you, how the hell are you alive?"

Dean pondered how to answer the question before he quietly replied. "He recognized that we're brothers I think...but I guess the werewolf hunger or whatever is really fucking strong, so he bit me to take the edge off it so we could make it here." Bobby nodded comprehendingly. "And the cut?" He pried. Dean shrugged nonchalantly. "Looked like he was ready to kill me when we got here, so I took a risk." He answered simply. Bobby huffed out a sigh and finished wrapping his injured arm. "You know, even for hunters you boys've got a weird life." He commented. Dean couldn't agree more. Bobby stood and patted Dean comfortingly on the shoulder. "Thanks, Bobby." He said sincerely, Bobby nodded his head once with a jerk and suggested that Dean crash on the couch for a few hours. Again, he couldn't have agreed more. He was asleep before he knew it.

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Sam awoke cold. He felt like the chills had seeped into him and were coating his bones and muscles in ice. He had been colder in his life, but it still sucked. His mind was clouded by the fog of sleep, which made it difficult to assess his surroundings. He began to feel a flutter of panic at the realization that he didn't know where he was, what had happened, or where Dean was. As his heart raced, he became more alert of his senses. He was laying on his side and his shoulder ached from the pressure of the cold, hard surface. Yes, it was freezing, but the sleekness of the floor suggested that he was inside somewhere. He pried his tired eyes open and glanced around. The only source of light in the room was a small window high up on the wall streaming in light from what seemed to be the last remnants of sunset. The placement of the window suggested he was in some kind of basement. He grunted and tried to run his fingers through his hair, but his hands would hardly part with a chinking noise. As more chills ran up his arms, he recognized the cold, metallic feeling of handcuffs around his wrists. He was still disoriented and the room seemed to spin, but that much he could tell.

He officially had no idea what was going on. His heart began hammering in his chest harder than it should have been and his throat was closing up in fear. His breathing was too quick, he was gonna hyperventilate if he didn't calm down. Shit, he had to find Dean. He needed to known that he was alright. "Dean!" Sam yelled as loud as he could. His voice was scratchier than usual. He couldn't control his breathing and there was sudden pain flaring throughout him. He yelped in surprise and the panic grew unsteadily. He felt like he was having a heart attack and he was afraid and there was that pain again and he didn't know where Dean was. Now there were images flooding him of claws and fangs and fur. He didn't know what it meant. His mind was whirring with chaos. "DEAN!" He screamed louder this time. He didn't know if Dean was anywhere near there, but something was happening to him and he didn't understand anything. More memories surfaced, this time of a cop and bloodlust and biting Dean. Holy shit...had he killed him? Had he killed Dean? He remembered the witch's curse now and the potion.

"DEAN!" He screeched at the top of his lungs because he didn't remember what happened after biting him and he couldn't let himself believe he killed him. There were footsteps pounding on the floor above him, but he couldn't stop. There were tears welling up in his eyes and his skin was tingling. His muscles had tensed and he cried out when he felt the snap of a bone. He couldn't breathe. His body was contorting and he screamed in agony. He felt like he was on fire and burning with ice and being repeatedly slammed into steel from the inside. His wrist bones broke and he whimpered. The bone was shaping, but the handcuffs were in the way. His wrists jerked against the handcuffs convulsively and he felt like ever part of him was jerking. He bit down on his tongue and tasted coppery blood. He whimpered one last broken "Dean" and the tears fell. It was over. He had killed Dean. He released a sob and screamed again with his gritty, shattered voice as more bones snapped. "Sammy?!" A frightened voice suddenly called out from above him. It sounded so much like Dean. He wanted to grin, be relieved, be thankful, but he was being rearranged piece by piece and it was the worst pain he had ever felt. 

He couldn't hold back the next scream, which was followed by a violent sob. He weakly jerked the handcuffs apart again and all he received was the chinking noise. A door somewhere in the room swung open and light poured in. Two sets of feet thundered down the steps and neared him. "Dean?" He tiredly whispered. Everything was too loud. He could hear their breathing, their heart beats. Both were more rapid than normal. "Sammy?" Dean leaned down next to him and whispered. Sam cried out with happiness as more tears fell. Well, happiness or pain, he couldn't tell. "Hey, shush, it's okay, it's alright" Dean soothed him with falsified calm. He shook his head because nothing was alright. His droopy eyes looked up to see Bobby standing and watching them with worry. "W're a' Bobby's" Sam slurred. Dean nodded and dug something out of his pocket. "Yeah, we're at Bobby's." He replied softly.

Sam froze and clenched his jaw. He whimpered from the fire running through his muscles. Dean pulled something small and metallic from his jacket pocket and took Sam's hands in his own. He did something with the handcuffs and there was a click as they unclamped. A pained moan rose in his throat and he could feel that his muscles had started shifting. Dean patted Sam's cheek and sniffled. It was then That Sam realized his eyes were puffy with shed tears. Sure, he was hurting, but he hadn't considered Dean having to deal with all of this as well. As Dean stood, Sam latched onto his pant leg because he was too weak to move much more than that. "I ddn' kill you" he announced tiredly and with a forced grin. Dean leaned down and wrapped Sam into a gentle hug. "No you didn't, Sammy." He replied. He pulled away and Sam felt fear rolling in his gut. Fear of what came after this. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off as his body writhed and contorted. He couldn't even scream anymore because his throat had changed and was no longer a human one.

Instead he whined as dark fur began sprouting from his skin and his body reformed. Dean and Bobby were gone when he looked up.

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	7. Chapter 7

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Sam un-gracefully forced himself to stand. His feet almost slid out from under him as he did so. His mind was foggy and he felt as if he had been drugged. Something was wrong. He felt...wrong. It took him much longer than it should have to realize he was standing on all fours and he could see a snout instead of a nose. For a while he simply stared down at his furry paws in wonder and slight shock. He always had the memories of being a wolf, but he was never...himself. He was always an animal, never Sam. He simultaneously felt joy and like he was gonna be sick. He guessed the potion had finally done something good. He curiously lifted a paw and moved it forward. His nails clicked against the hardwood floor as he did so. Wobbly and uncoordinated, he moved forward until he was at the staircase that lead to the door. He needed Dean to know that he was himself. How he was gonna convince him to open the door to what he thought was a bloodthirsty animal? He had no idea.

Sam moved one paw at a time up the stairs and focused on the rhythmic clicks. When he reached the door, he considered his options. Then he realized he only had two, whine and scratch. Dammit, being a wolf sucked. He felt his ear twitch as he recognized a familiar voice from inside the house. "I don't get it." Dean stated confusedly. His footsteps made it sound like he was pacing. He couldn't remember Dean pacing this much before this curse. "What?" Bobby asked. The pacing stopped for a moment then started again. "Sam's usually going nuts by now. Growling, snarling, whining, wolf stuff. I haven't heard him make a noise." He anxiously explained. Sam could hear Dean's voice gaining in pitch with worry and he felt a pang of guilt. Dean shouldn't have had to be worried this often. He shouldn't have had to deal with any of this. As Bobby began to reply, Sam whined as loudly as he could and scratched a single paw against the door. "See? He's fine, Dean. Now quit that pacing, you're making me anxious. I doubt you've gotten much sleep since this started. Why don't you get some rest in the guest room?" Bobby insisted. 

He could practically see Dean's mind competing in a draining game of tug of war over staying up with Sam and getting some much needed sleep. "Yeah, I could use a few hours. But if anything happens, Bobby, you let me know." He demanded as his footsteps moved away from the living room. "Yeah yeah, get some sleep, you old nag." Bobby replied jokingly. Dean chuckled just low enough so he was sure Bobby didn't hear. The sound of Dean's heartbeat grew louder as he neared the door. The noise was practically hypnotic. It made his own steady heartbeat quicken and caused saliva to drip from his needle-like canine teeth. He shook his head once and pushed the thoughts away from him. He was Sam. He was still Sam. He mentally repeated the words like a mantra. His ears twitched when Dean stopped in front of the door. He whispered "night, Sammy." It was a bit broken and overflowing with pain that Sam could practically feel. Sam couldn't help the miserable whine that crawled up his throat. Dean's heart turned irregular. "Sam?" He addressed with more than a little confusion.

Sam whined again as if in reply and scratched weakly at the door once. He really wished he could talk. "Sam, is that you? I mean, human you?" He asked incredulously. Sam barked once and couldn't resist the urge to desperately claw at the wooden door. Dean commanded "knock it off, Sam. Bobby's gonna be pissed if you leave claw marks." The words felt like a test to see if it was truly him. Sam stopped scratching and growled irritatedly. He knew Dean was right, but he wasn't happy about it. Dean barked out a quick laugh of relief and hope. If Sam had a human mouth, it would have split into a wide grin at the sound. "Bobby! It's Sam!" Dean called out. There was finally that spark of happiness and ability to enjoy life that had dwindled from his voice lately. Bobby's pounding footsteps neared the door and when he reached Dean he quickly asked "what happened?" There was no loss of patience in his voice, no irritation, only genuine concern. He couldn't have been more grateful for the man. He was struck with horror when he realized he felt the overwhelming urge to lick his face. He really, really hated being a wolf. He would kill that witch if she wasn't already dead. 

"Talk to him." Dean instructed him. Bobby mumbled "what?" Like he didn't understand Dean's words. "Just try. Trust me." Dean practically pleaded. Sam could hear him excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet and snorted. Bobby moved closer to the door and awkwardly greeted "uh, hey, Sam. How are yah, kid?" Sam whined quietly and Bobby muttered "huh" disbelievingly. He then leaned away from the door and addressed Dean. "How do we know it's him and not just the wolf reacting to our voices?" Dean shifted the weight on his feet. "You haven't seen how he usually is when he turns, Bobby. He's never calm like this." He argued. Bobby blew out his breath like he still wasn't convinced. Dean seemed to think for a moment before enthusiastically explaining his idea. "How about this? Sam, if you understand me, bark twice." Eager to be recognized as himself, Sam forced out two sharp barks. "Son of a bitch, It's really him." Bobby exclaimed quietly. The world seemed to go silent as the two men breathed evenly and Sam waited. He was flooded with panic when the door swung open with a click and Dean and Bobby came into view. 

He frantically scrambled backwards and almost lost his footing on the stairs. Shit, he had to get away from them. He just wanted Dean to know he was himself, he didn't want to be let out. He whimpered sadly and shook his head when Dean just watched him confusedly. His and Bobby's brows creased and sam whined again. He felt his tail tuck in between his legs and he backed up further down the stairs. He was still a wolf and he was still hungry and he couldn't hurt them, he couldn't. They needed to close the door. His ears flattened against his head in fear of what he could do. Dean's face suddenly smoothed over with understanding. "You're still hungry, aren't you?" He asked sadly and not without disappointment as the earlier excitement drained away. Sam bowed his head in shame and focused on the floor. "But...you're you, Sam. I can't just leave you down here all night." He argued. Sam whined and lowered himself to the floor. He rested his head on his paws and stared up at Dean. Bobby interjected with "y'know, Sam, I've got a tranquilizer gun upstairs. I could keep it handy in case you lost control?" He offered.

Sam's ears unintentionally perked up and his tail began wagging. Damn wolf body. He didn't want his thoughts exposed that easy, his hope. Dean's lips grew into a smile. "I think you've won him over." He turned to Bobby with a silent gratitude. Instead of nodding, Sam got to his feet and warily stalked to the door. He eyed Dean and Bobby and was struck with excitement. He had the whole house to run and chase. Unable to resist, he broke into a sprint and tore out of the basement with all of his capable speed, which-him being a wolf-was a lot. The sound of Dean and Bobby's surprised gasps registered to his sensitive ears, but he couldn't stop. His muscles were drinking in the movement with pleasure and he barked ecstatically as he reached the kitchen. He stopped and caught his breath with ease. He longed to be outdoors where the running didn't have to ever end and the sights never ran out. Ignoring the thought, he happily pranced into the living room and plopped down on the comfortable couch.

Dean and Bobby entered the room and stared at him. Dean wore an entertained grin and Bobby's eyes were a little too wide. "This is probably the weirdest damn situation I've ever been in." He admitted. Dean snorted and held back a laugh and Sam barked once. Remembering the circumstances of which he was out of the basement, he focused his eyes on Bobby then the direction that would lead upstairs. Bobby nodded with understanding and said "right, tranquilizer." As he turned his back on them and sauntered out of the room. Dean seemed to deflate a bit at the words, but didn't let his joy falter too much. He walked to the couch and fell back onto it beside Sam. Sam's ears pressed down again and he whined. Dean's scent was overwhelming. Not in a way that was unpleasant, just the opposite. He really wished Bobby would get back with that tranquilizer gun. He pressed himself into the arm of the couch and as far away from Dean as he could. "Hey." Dean addressed sharply. Sam reluctantly turned to him with fearful hazel eyes. Dean stared at him with intense focus and asked "do I look like I'm wearing red, mr. Big bad wolf?" Sam rolled his eyes as best as he could and snorted. "I trust you not to eat me, Sammy. That goes for Bobby too, even if he tells you to get your furry ass off his couch." The words were playful and teasing, but held a deep sincerity that Sam wasn't aware Dean was capable of.

Sam was overcome with affection and before he could stop himself, he lunged forward and sloppily licked Dean once on the cheek. He stumbled back on the couch with a look of horror at his action. Dean shared the same look of wide eyes and a gaping mouth. That is, until he exploded with loud, uncontrollable laughter. He clutched at his stomach and rolled onto the floor as the giggles plagued him. Sam felt some of the embarrassment ease out of him. Mentally smirking, he leapt onto the floor and made disgusted hacking noises. Dean finally sat up with the biggest smile Sam had seen on him in years and caught his breath. He said "dude, that was fucking gross. Quit acting like you're gonna hurl, It hasn't been THAT long since I've had a shower." Sam snorted with wolfy laughter and Bobby walked in on them, gun in hand and a very confused expression watching them recover on the floor. Dean fell on his back as he burst with more joyous laughter. Sam watched him with an entertained gaze.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an ending for this story planned (yay) so I might actually finish one for a change

As the night progressed, Sam's hunger grew exponentially and he found himself physically unable to move out of fear of what he might do. Dean and Bobby were seated on the couch surrounded by stacks of old books. They had been almost nonstop searching for an answer to cure him. Sam was resting on the floor across the room. When the hunger became unbearable, he whined sharply. Both men turned to him with worried expressions and it wasn't until then that he realized his body was shaking with restraint. Dean's eyes grew large and he almost whispered "Sammy?" Sam didn't understand the apparent fear at first, then he felt the deep rumble of a growl in his own throat and quickly cut it off. He was losing control in a bad way and something had to be done soon. He pressed his ears flat against his head and eyed the tranquilizer gun longingly. He desperately wanted the pain in his gut, the salivating of his mouth, and the way Dean and Bobby were the best smelling food he had been tempted by in years to end. He jumped a bit at the realization that he had just mentally called them food. 

Fear seeped into him mingling with the intense hunger and sped up his heart rate. He whimpered while insistently staring at the tranquilizer gun. "Woah, hey, Sam, we aren't using that thing unless we absolutely have to." Dean said strictly. Running out of patience, Sam lifted his lip in an angry snarl directed at him. Dean froze and bit his lip. Bobby slowly stood without taking his eyes away from Sam. He dropped the tranquilizer gun at Dean's side and began backing out of the room cautiously. "I think I've got an idea. He got violent when he was hungry before, right?" He asked Dean. Dean turned to him and muttered "yeah." Bobby nodded and calmly walked out of the room. Sam kept his eyes on the ground and avoided breathing for as long as he could stand. His vision started going grey around the edges, but he knew if he took in the deep breath he knew he needed, he would lose it. The smell would be too much and he would do something he really didn't want to do, except he did want to. He really, really did.

He couldn't help it. His body betrayed him and he sucked in a breath through his nose. With a vicious snarl, he got to his feet and sprinted to Dean. Engulfed by the immense hunger, he leapt on top of Dean and aimed for the throat as he leaned in with bared teeth. The world seemed to run in slow motion at that point. Bobby was suddenly at their side with the gun in his shaking hands. There was a stinging pain in Sam's hip and he lost the energy to move. His mouth latched closed and his eyes rolled back in his head. He felt his body going numb and seemed to have been moved. There were two sets of arms holding him up as he could no longer support his body. His senses were wavering and weak. Muffled voices spoke up as he was gently laid on something soft. "I'm sorry, Dean. It had to be done." Bobby spoke gravely. Dean sighed tiredly and replied with "don't apologize. He would've killed me if you didn't. I just can't believe he almost did." His voice was flat, emotionless and yet somehow depressed at the same time.

Sam was yet again attacked by a wave of guilt. He had almost killed his brother, ripped his throat out. The worst part was that he still felt the urge to. He forced a long, soft whine. He was sorry, so sorry and he wanted Dean to know that. He groggily lifted his eyelids and looked up at Dean. It took a while for them to adjust, but he blinked and his vision cleared. Dean's brow was furrowed in confusion. "Isn't he supposed to be out?" He asked as he turned to Bobby. Bobby wore the same baffled expression. He shrugged and answered "supposed to, yeah. Must be some part of the werewolf thing." Dean pressed his lips together and turned his eyes on Sam. They weren't angry or accusing, only full of love and infinite sadness. He reached his hand down and stroked Sam's brown fur soothingly. Sam allowed his eyes to close, but remained more or less alert. "How long do you think it will last then?" Dean wondered. Sam drank in the feeling of Dean's fingers ruffling his fur and attempted to rid himself of the guilt and regret. Unsuccessful, he whined apologetically again and Dean ran his finger's over Sam's ear. "It's okay, Sammy. Not your fault. I'm not mad." He shushed Sam with the words. 

One side of-what he assumed was-the couch dipped with weight and he felt body heat radiating towards him. He pried his eyes open to see Dean beside him looking up at Bobby. "No idea. At this rate, maybe an hour?" He replied as Sam snuggled his head into Dean's thigh comfortably. He let out a contented sigh and let his eyes fall closed again. "What was your idea then? Looks like we might need it when the tranquilizer wears off. It's that or put him back in the basement for the rest of the night." Dean's voice grew soft and remorseful on the last few words. "I'll show you." Bobby announced. There was a shuffling of feet and curiosity won over exhaustion as Sam made his eyes crack open. Bobby returned with three large, uncooked steaks still in the clear packaging. Sam's mouth watered and he felt himself waking up more as he sniffed. The smell was delicious and he thought he might go crazy if he didn't have it in his mouth soon. He uselessly wiggled and twitched his body, but still didn't have enough control over it to get up. He whimpered desperately and he suddenly felt like he was starving.

Dean's fingers dug into the fur of his neck and he calmly commanded "hey, Sam, calm down, man." But Sam couldn't be calm. He so badly needed to eat. He whined again and struggled to get to his paws only to flop around like a fish out of water. Dean planted his palms on Sam's side and said "Sammy, stop. You can't eat while you're like this. In an hour, okay? I swear you can have them in an hour." He frantically worked to calm Sam. Understanding that the smell would be torture for that long, Bobby quickly moved them out of the room. When the air had mostly cleared of the delectable smell, Sam was able to finally lie still. "That's it, Sam. You're doing awesome, little brother. You're gonna have a hell of a meal soon, dog brain." Dean began using the encouraging Words as time went by. The tranquilizer eventually wore off enough that he could sit up. He had a bit of trouble keeping his balance, however.

When the hour was fully over, Sam slowly crawled off of the couch and stood. His legs were weak but he eagerly growled until Bobby brought the steaks in. They were all unwrapped and contained in a large mixing bowl. The second the bowl touched the ground, Sam darted to it and mercilessly tore into the meat until the container was licked clean. Besides a few jokes from Dean about his appetite and Sam playfully nipping at his arm for it, the rest of the night was quiet and used up researching.

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	9. Chapter 9

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When Dean woke up from what he realized had been an accidental nap somewhere in the night, it was already 6:00 pm. He wiped away the saliva crusted at the corner of his mouth and suppressed a cringe. After several minutes of stretching from the much needed sleep, he got to his feet and became lightheaded. It hit him that along with the lack of sleep in those last few days, he also hadn't eaten very much. His eyes still hooded and muscles weak from the nap, he stumbled mostly awake into the brightly light kitchen. He plopped into a stiff, wooden chair at the dining table and propped his elbows up, dropping his chin in his hands. As his eyes' fogginess cleared, he recognized Sam sitting across from him fully dressed and wearing a bemused expression. Dean almost sobbed at the sight of him. Not wolf Sam, not half-wolf Sam, just his regular, nerdy brother that he had missed more than he realized. He felt his brow crease with concentration as he took in Sam's cheek bones that seemed too sharp and his pale complexion. Sam snickered and sarcastically commented "don't hurt yourself there, Dean." Dean's nose wrinkled and he narrowed his eyes. "Bitch." He spat out. Sam blew out a breath with repressed giggling and shook his head. "Jerk." He replied  
automatically. Bobby entered the room and sat down two bowls on the clean table. "Aww you two are adorable." He teased. Dean eyed the steaming bowl of chili hungrily and slid it to him. He wet his lips and flashed Bobby a mischievous grin.

"Hey, I'm a badass killing machine. There's no room for adorable in me. Sam is another story." He corrected while pointing his spoon. He flicked his eyes down and dug into the chili, shoveling large spoonfuls into his mouth and refraining from moaning in pleasure at the taste. Sam scoffed from across the table. Dean leaned back and dropped his eyes to the full bowl of salad topped with dressing in front of him. Sam was twirling the fork in his fingers and staring intently at the bowl with hardly concealed disgust. "Your rabbit food finally lose whatever it is that made it bearable?" Dean joked sarcastically. Sam looked up and glared at him while a smirk played on his lips. He sighed and swallowed a lump before thrusting his fork into the salad and quickly forcing it into his mouth. His brow creased as he chewed and the process just looked almost painful. Dean tried to push away the worry as he enjoyed his chili and kept an eye on Sam, but something was obviously wrong. By the time the bowl was almost empty, Sam's eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his grasp on the fork was so strong his knuckles were turning white. Dean set his spoon into his empty bowl and crossed his arms. "Hey, man, you alright?" Dean asked worriedly. Without opening his eyes, Sam nodded jerkily, held up his index finger and fled from the room at a pace of almost running.

Dean's brow furrowed and he put his bowl in the sink without speaking. He shook his head and convinced himself that he didn't need to worry. If there was something going on, Sam would let him know. Realizing he had nothing better to do, Dean returned to the living room and continued the research. He fucking hated research more than ever, but things just kept getting worse and they needed to figure out how to cure Sam.

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Sam's back arched and his muscles tensed as his stomach flipped. He tightened his grip on the toilet seat, but his hands still trembled persistently. He moaned as he recognized the all too familiar feeling of bile rising in his throat. He had already puked several times just in the last few minutes and he was starting to wonder if it would ever end. His stomach burned as he gagged convulsively. He could feel his eyes popping with the strain and hoping there was nothing left to be expelled, he opened them and drew in deep, desperate breaths. He almost sobbed when he spotted the blotch of blood pooling in the toilet. This meant he was gonna have to tell Dean. Sam fisted his hand and weakly slammed it down on the toilet lid. Dean was barely sleeping, he was barely eating, he was barely living all because of Sam. He didn't want to be responsible for his brother's misery. If he hadn't been so slow as to get himself cursed, none of this would have been happening. Guilt coiled and bit at his insides causing them to practically pulse with pain. Or maybe that feeling was just because he was gonna puke again. 

Just as he leaned over the toilet bowl again and readied himself to retch, There were three knocks at the bathroom door and Sam jumped as he gasped in surprised. He had gotten so lost in his thoughts that he had forgotten there were others in the house. "Sam? You okay?" Dean called from behind the door. There was worry and trepidation in his voice. Sam really fucking didn't want Dean to find out. As much as he believed in his ability to pretend things were alright, there was no way Dean would miss his shakiness and clammy complexion. "I'm-" Sam began speaking, but was cut off as his body tightened and acid forced its way out of him. He swiveled his head to the toilet and made a pained gagging noise as the thick liquid dripped out of his mouth in a thick stream. He moaned again in disgust and discomfort. His eyelids fluttered open and revealed to him a new spot of blood slowly dispersing in the water. "Sam? Sammy?!" Dean's voice grew more frantic as he continuously knocked harder on the door.

Losing strength, Sam slipped to the floor with a thump and rested his heated cheek against the cool tiles. A sweat-drenched wisp of his hair fell in his face and whenever he breathed outward, it fluttered slightly. He swallowed and replied tiredly "'m fine. 'M okay, Dean." Dean seemed to calm at the words, but his tone revealed that he was still eager to see Sam. "Alright, well let me in, man." He demanded softly. Sam shook his head minutely before remembering Dean couldn't see him. "Can't." He explained vaguely. "What do you meant you can't? You can't move? Sam, if you don't open the door, I'm kicking it open and Bobby won't be happy about it, so if it's possible, get your ass up and open it." He commanded. It sounded as if Dean had meant to inject the words with humor, but they came out dead serious. Sam would only feel more guilty if Bobby's door was broken. With a groan, he pushed himself up on shaky arms, already missing the cool floor and dreading the trek across the small bathroom. He gripped the counter desperately for support and dragged himself upright. 

Fearing that he wouldn't be able to remain vertical for long, he quickly reached for the door and unlocked it. He swung it open and his hold on the counter slipped. Just as he lost his balance and his weak legs gave out on him, Dean rushed forward and caught him in his arms. "Hey, little brother, the floor doesn't look like a comfortable place for a nap, what do yah say we get you to the guest room?" He nearly whispered into Sam's ear with a hushed, caring voice. He was stroking the back of Sam's damp hair and all Sam could manage was a nod. "Alright, come on, help me out if you can." Dean said as he slung Sam's arm over his shoulder. Sam's feet drug uselessly across the ground as Dean grunted and struggled to get a good hold on him. "Sorry" Sam mumbled guiltily. He wanted to stop hurting Dean. He really did. Dean poured all of his strength into practically carrying Sam across the hallway and replied with little breath "it's alright, Sammy. It's okay. It's not your fault." Sam was tired of hearing that bullshit. "It's not your fault", right. Than who's fault was it? Who's fault was it that Dean was crumbling around caring for him? Who's fault was it that Dean had to spend his hours researching a cure? His own. It was always his fault. Before he knew it, the thoughts swirled around in his inner turmoil until there were tears slipping out of his eyes and his chest was hitching with small gasps.

Dean took small steps and readjusted Sam so he wasn't slinking to the floor. "Hey, hey, it's okay. It'll be okay. We're gonna fix you. We'll fix this, okay?" Dean reassured him quickly. Sam miserably leaned his head on Dean's shoulder and nodded once, but his bottom lip continued to tremble as he held back more tears that made his throat ache. They reached the bedroom and as gently as possible, Dean lowered Sam onto the neatly made bed. Dean was gasping for breath and Sam spotted several beads of sweat on his forehead. He bit his lip to refrain from babbling a chorus of apologies, although he desperately wished for the grating guilt to be relieved from him. Dean sat at the edge of the bed and caught his breath before asking "wanna tell me what's going on?" The words weren't pushing or commanding, just patient and suggestive. Sam sucked in a single breath and weakly explained "haven't been able to keep anything down...since potion. Blood in my puke now." His awareness grew thin as his eyes drooped, but the look of fear and slight panic in Dean's eyes kept him conscious.

"Nothing?" He balked. Sam shook his head and sighed sadly. Dean nervously ran his fingers through his hair and Sam could see the gears turning in his head. Dean pursed his lips and stared intently at the far wall with a creased forehead. He turned to Sam and his expression seemed to soften as his lips twitched up in a sincere, sad kind of smile. "Get some rest. Me and Bobby'll figure this out, kay?" He announced. Sam nodded one last time and let his eyes fall closed. "Sorry" he whispered as his senses grew faint. He thought he felt a cool hand pet his hair and heard a distant "don't be." Before he fell into a dreamless sleep.  
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Dean stomped downstairs with a growing headache and even more rapidly growing worry. Awesome, ANOTHER problem. It was beginning to feel like life was never going to cut the Winchester's some well deserved slack. He groaned and ran his hand over his face as he fell back onto the couch. "You alright?" He jumped at Bobby's sudden words and spun his head to the armchair where the man was reading a dusty, old book. He waited for his heart rate to return to normal to respond. "No. Sam hasn't been able to eat anything without puking it up since he took that damn potion." He explained heatedly. Bobby's lack of surprise made Dean narrow his eyes pointedly. "Did you already know?" He asked suspiciously. Bobby snorted and replied "I've been up all day making that boy meals and snacks trying to find something his stomach could handle. I'm guessing the salad didn't go so well?" He assumed with casual concern. Dean's eyes widened incredulously. "What the hell, Bobby?! Why didn't you tell me?" He demanded with his arms splayed to his sides. Bobby lifted an eyebrow authoritatively and not-so-gently closed the book in his hands. He set it aside and leaned forward. 

"It was Sam's decision if he wanted to tell you or not. Wasn't my place, Dean." He stated confidently. Dean leaned forward with a cold fury and snapped "yeah? Well now he's puking up blood and I should have known about this sooner so I could figure out a way to help him. He looks like he's fucking DYING, Bobby, and you had no right to keep this from me." Bobby's jaw loosened at the words and the anger seeped out of him. "We need to find somethin' that his body can keep down." He stated logically. Dean gawked at him and snorted sarcastically. "No shit!" He almost yelled. Bobby was suddenly possessed by a ferocity that made him seem much more ancient and dangerous. His eyes darkened and he calmly commanded "boy, you better shut your mouth unless there's somethin' that can help your brother coming out of it" Dean swallowed and the tenseness of his body drained away. He nodded and pursed his lips as they both thought over solutions to the immediate concern.

Dean felt like a lightbulb should have turned on over his head as a thought so obvious that he should have seen it earlier appeared to him. He looked up at Bobby and considered how to word it. Bobby held his gaze with a questioning expression. "What is it?" He finally asked curiously. Dean popped his knuckles and explained "it's just something Sam said...he guessed that when the potion made him turn during the day it could have been because it was balancing out his wolfiness and humanness." Bobby shook his head uncomprehendingly and Dean ran his tongue over his lips. "Remember the other night when he about had a heart attack when he smelled the steaks? Well maybe he can only eat raw meat now because of the potion or something?" He phrased the words as a question, but as he said them he became more sure of his theory. He didn't know how Sam would react, but it was their only shot. Bobby nodded approvingly and announced "alright, I'll make a trip to the local grocery shop." 

Dean grinned even though there was slight disgust resting in him at the thought of Sam eating raw meat in human form. His promise to Sam of fixing him had a chance of being more than a comforting, optimistic lie. He didn't yet have a cure, but keeping him alive and healthy would be a good enough victory for the moment.  
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	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the longest story I've ever written so I hope you guys like it

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Dean remained by Sam's bed until sunset. Just as Dean was beginning to think, and hope, that he would sleep through the change, Sam drew in a sharp breath and rubbed at his glazed eyes. "Hey" he muttered through a yawn. Dean smirked and replied "hey." Sam must have noticed the tension around his eyes because he scanned his face and asked "what's wrong?" Dean flicked his eyes to the window that golden light from the sunset was streaming in from. Sam curiously turned his head to the side and when he turned back, his lips were pinched and his eyes were empty. "Oh" he mumbled understandingly. Dean nodded and sighed. "Feels like you're barely around anymore between turning at night, turning randomly during the day, and needing to catch up on sleep while you're human. And then this whole being sick thing today." He admitted solemnly. He tried to think of something witty or sarcastic to say or a joke, but he just wasn't in the mood. He was tired and he had a feeling if he slept a lifetime, he would still be tired. 

Sam's brow furrowed and his breathing quickened so slightly that Dean almost didn't pick up on it. He was getting better at recognizing the signs. "Sorry, Dean. At least I'm starting to be myself more when I'm...y'know. Like that." Sam mumbled the last words shamefully. Dean decided he needed to stop thinking so much about himself and realize that Sam was the cursed one. He obviously hated what he was. Dean smirked sadly. "Hey, maybe if you're a good dog tonight, I'll play fetch with you." He teased. Sam's eyes actually brightened at that and his lips twitched. A second later he seemed to catch himself and shook his head confusedly. Dean chuckled at the action. Sam suddenly flinched and screwed his eyes shut. He groaned and muttered into the pillow "this is gonna suck." Dean was slapped with sympathy and had to refrain from stroking his hair, rubbing his shoulder, something comforting that could possibly make the pain worse somehow. "Hang in there. It'll be over soon and you'll be chasing your tail in no time." He reassured Sam. "You should go." Sam suggested half-heartedly. He then added "in case I'm not me." The sentence would have been odd out of context, but Dean understood it and the dread that followed.

He shook his head and rejected the words with a simple "nah." He crossed his arms rebelliously and stated "I'm with yah till the end." Sam's eyes snapped open and the pain was clear in them when he groaned and pleaded "aaaghhhh.....Dean...please." Sensing the fear and rising anger, Dean reluctantly stood and made his way to the door. "See you on the other side." He commented. Sam flashed him a quick, insincere smile and dug his fingers into his pillow. Dean closed the door and slid down the wall beside it. For a while Sam avoided screaming by grunting and stuffing his face in bedding from the sound of it, but the minute bones began breaking and there was a large thump as Sam hit the ground, the agonized, gritty screams and yells didn't falter. Dean put his hands over his ears, but it was no use. He almost wanted to scream himself. Sam was silent. There was a whine and heavy breathing and then Sam stood.

He padded with the clicking of his claws to the door and scratched at it. Dean perked up, relieved that the painful process had ended and jumped to his feet. "That you?" He asked through the door. Sam scratched the door once. "You trying to send me morse code? Sorry, pup, never learned it." He sarcastically commented. Sam growled irritatedly and that was when Dean decided it was him. He grinned and opened the door with a creak. Sam pranced happily out of the room and down the stairs. "I've got a surprise for you in the living room." Dean called out as he followed. Sam sprinted out of sight with his tail wagging wildly. Dean found himself holding back an entertained snort at his brother's excitement. He sauntered into the living room to find Sam staring at him with penetrating eyes. He was standing in front of a clear, plastic bowl with the name "Sam" written on it in sharpie. There were several large pieces of meat sticking out of it. Dean grinned wickedly and said "who knew wolves could glare?" As he sunk into the couch. Sam shook his head exasperatedly and dug into the meal.

"Just remember, Sammy" Dean ordered. Sam's ear twitched, but he didn't abandon the meal. "Hunters are friends, not food." He finished. Sam almost choked on the meat with wolffish laughter and Dean chuckled almost hysterically. Bobby sat in his arm chair with a mound of books next to him and one in his lap and he muttered "idjits" through the creeping smirk. Dean began dozing off while Sam was eating. He was startled when something warm and heavy dropped in his lap. He looked down to see a very large, fuzzy Sam half laying across his legs. His chest was expanding with even breaths that Dean couldn't bring himself to disturb. He closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and scratched behind Sam's soft ear as he fell asleep.  
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Dean woke up grateful. He glanced down at Sam still partially in his lap and curled up in a red blanket. He guessed that had been Bobby's doing and mentally thanked the man because otherwise he would have woken up to a completely nude little brother and that would have been awkward. Dean decided right then that Sam was no longer to fall asleep in his lap unless Dean covered him in blankets. He was startled by a hard knock on the door. Bobby was snoring in his armchair and didn't seem to have been disturbed by the noise. Dean pried Sam off of him and Sam huffed in protest at first. "Dude, off. Someone's gotta get the door around here." The knocking became more frantic as Sam sat up looking around in a daze. "Wha-?" He mumbled in disorientation. "It'll come back to you." Dean assured him as he rushed away. When he reached the door, he turned the handle and opened it wide. Joe Harvelle stood there awkwardly and white-faced. Her eyes were a little too wide, which told Dean there was trouble. She glanced behind him and asked "uh, can I come in?" Unsurely. Dean nodded and stepped out of the way as she entered the house.

He followed closely behind her to the living room where Bobby was just waking up and Sam was standing in the center of the room with the blanket around his shoulders. Joe froze in the entryway with her eyes locked on Sam. When he spotted her, his jaw went slack and a light blush blazed on his cheeks. "Um, uh, hi, Jo..." Sam stumbled awkwardly over his words and he tightened the blanket. Jo snickered and covered her mouth with her frail hand that Dean knew could actually do immense damage in a heated situation. Her lips twitched and her eyebrows raised. "Hey, Sam...are you naked under there?" She asked curiously and without a hint of embarrassment. Sam, however, appeared stunned and mortified as his face turned a bright red. His jaw worked before he blinked several times and announced "I, umm, am gon-gonna go get dressed." He swallowed convulsively and cleared his throat on the way to the bathroom. Once out of sight, Jo asked "rough night?" With lingering laughter In her voice. Dean shrugged. "You could say that." He replied. Bobby stood up from the chair and cracked his neck.

"Hey, Jo." Bobby greeted with a warm grin. "What brings you to this neck of the woods?" He wondered. The panic in Jo's featured returned and she wrung her hands together as she spoke. "It's my mom. A hunter came into the bar, cornered her, and roughed her up. We came here to lay low for a while in case it was more than just a drunk bastard." Bobby's expression turned half grave and half infuriated. "Well you're always welcome. Where is she?" He asked. Jo's eyes flicked away. "The car. She wasn't feeling good enough to drive, so she fell asleep on the way here." She answered. Bobby nodded and gestured for Jo to bring her in. Jo whipped around the corner and swung the front door closed on her way out. She returned a minute or two later with Ellen limping at her side and holding onto her arm like a lifeline. Dean sucked in a shocked breath at the woman's appearance. There were several dark bruises littering her face, she had a black eye, there were still bleeding, crisscrossed knife wounds across her arms, and something seemed wrong with her ankle. Bobby crossed the room in a few strides muttering "damn, Ellen, if you got this banged up, I expect the guy to be in the hospital." As he took her other arm and lead her to the couch. Jo gravitated to Dean with crossed arms and pinched lips.

He gently nudged her arm to get her attention. When she turned to him, he confidently said "hey, she'll be alright. Your mom is one tough woman." Jo smirked and retorted "are you just saying that because you're afraid of her?" The words lacked their normal sarcastic heat. Dean pursed his lips and responded "fuck yeah. That woman scares the shit out of me." Jo's smile widened and she looked away. She suddenly turned around and teased "so Sam, the blanket wasn't really your color, huh?" Dean turned as well, ready to double team him. At first, he didn't notice anything was wrong. Sam was standing in front of the room fully clothed. It wasn't until he realized Sam was staring right past them and at Ellen with an expression that he recognized. His eyes were penetrating and harsh, his jaw was tightly clenched, and his body was rigid. It was predatory, hungry, and revealed his inner bloodlust. The only thing Dean could think was that they had made a dumbass decision. Ellen was BLEEDING and Sam was a werewolf with fucking supersmell and yeah, eating animal meat worked, but there was no doubt in Dean's mind that the temptation of eating humans was much, much stronger. He cursed under his breath and sprinted to Sam, crashing into him with all of his force and knocking him into the next room where he couldn't see in.

"Jo!" He called as he crawled on top of Sam and pinned him down, but shit, he had werewolf strength and Dean was no match. "JO!" Dean yelled with a panicked crack in his voice. Sam's body was trembling and his eyes were staring in the direction of the living room and there was sweat rolling down his creased forehead, which meant he was using everything he had to remain still and not turn. Jo rushed into the room and stared down confusedly at them. "What the hell?" She uttered. "Help me hold him down!" Dean ordered. There was no time for questions or explaining. She hesitated, but Jo leapt to the ground and Dean jumped off of Sam, using one hand to press down his arm and the other to hold down his chest. Jo frantically glanced up and imitated the action. Sam was breathing too quickly and his heart was pounding unnaturally fast. His faced twitched and he muttered "Dean, I-I can't, it won't-the smell-" They had to get him out of there as soon as possible. "Can you make it to the basement?" Dean quickly asked. Sam's lip twitched and he shook his head once as his face contorted in pain. He released a groan and then a desperate whimper. "Shit" Dean swore softly and with wide eyes. "Dean, what the hell is wrong with him?!" Jo screamed fearfully. Instead of answering, Dean yelled "BOBBY!" He heard Bobby curse in realization as he skid into the room and knelt down next to Sam. Bobby turned to Jo and commanded "go get my knife off the nightstand and protect your mom." Jo gawked at him and asked "from what?"

Bobby hesitated a moment then simply replied "Sam. Now go, quick." Jo was confused and panicking, but she would always protect her mother, so she jumped to her feet and ran out of the room. Dean looked back at Sam and his face was red and a vein stuck out on his forehead with restraint. His teeth began moving and reforming and his fingers splayed as the nails grew into claws. He made a choking noise and opened his eyes. Dean and Bobby held him down with all of their weight as Sam struggled and writhed beneath them. He whipped his head to Dean and snarled with bloodlust-coated rage. "We gotta get him to the basement!" Dean said to Bobby. Bobby nodded in agreement and they simultaneously lifted Sam off the ground. He growled and yanked his arms and snapped his teeth as Dean and Bobby pulled him away from the living room. Sam seemed to use all of his strength as he ripped his arms out of Their grip and tore into the living room. "SAM, NO!" Dean begged as he raced Bobby there. He froze when he entered the living room. Jo was recovering on the ground near the armchair as if she had been thrown and the knife was strewn across the room. Sam was standing in the middle of the room staring at Ellen with an inner conflict showing through his shifting expressions of hunger and concentration.

"Sammy, don't." Dean begged. Sam dug his claws into the palms of his hands. His arms were shaking and his body was stiff. Dean took slow steps forward. Sam continued boring his eyes into the cuts on Ellen's arms. "Ellen, cover your arms with the blanket." Dean ordered calmly and slow. Ellen nodded jerkily without taking her frightened eyes from Sam and pulled the dark blanket over her and up to her neck. Jo was switching her focus from the knife to Dean with pleading eyes. Sam took a step forward and the room filled with tension. He was still trembling and that meant he was fighting, which was good. Dean took another step. They were only separated by a few feet now. Just as he was about to close the distance, Sam quickly turned around and crushed himself against Dean. His heart was hammering and he felt like he had lost all of his breath. Sam buried his face into Dean's shoulder and smothered his arms between their bodies with his claws pointed upwards. "Get me out." He growled in that animalistic voice that was part whimper. Dean wrapped his arm around Sam and with speed he didn't know he was capable of, sprinted to the basement. He ran with Sam down the first few steps, then retreated to the top and slammed the door shut.

Breathing heavy and on wobbly legs, he retreated to the living room. By the time he got there, Sam had lost control again and was scrabbling at the door and snarling. Every eye in the living room was on him. 

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	11. Chapter 11

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Dean stepped forward gravely. He eyed Ellen as he spoke to her. "I'm so sorry, Ellen. I should have put him in the basement the second I saw the cuts. I didn't think about the blood. I'm so damn sorry." He finished as he wearily scrubbed a hand over his mouth. Ellen swallowed and her face tightened. "Are either of you planning on telling us what the hell is going on?" She questioned as her shaded eyes flicked from Dean to Bobby. Dean nodded and explained the witch's curse, the potion, and the discover that Sam could only eat raw meat. He also gestured to the stacks of books littering the room and told her about their search for a cure. By the end, Ellen was leaning back with a horrified yet sympathetic expression and Jo was on the edge of the couch with crossed arms and a gaping mouth. "That's why Sam was only wearing a blanket earlier? Because when the sun came up he turned back into a human?" She asked almost incredulously with a furrowed brow and a burning curiosity. Dean nodded and shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Well there's gotta be somewhere better than a basement to lock him up? He'll freeze down there." Ellen argued sadly. Dean smirked even though the momentary joy didn't reach his eyes. Sam had almost attacked her only minutes ago and she was fighting for him to be somewhere warmer.

When all eyes disbelievingly bored into her, she crossed her arms defiantly and uttered "it's not that boy's fault he got cursed. Plus he somehow managed to not eat me, which is a plus." Dean rolled his shoulders and leaned against the wall. He just wanted to sleep until Sam was human again. "Nowhere I can think of. I would take him to a hotel while you're here, but-" Dean began and was cut off by Bobby's strong voice. "That's one hell of a bad idea. If he can't handle being around a few cuts, imagine what being in a building full of people would do to him." He said. Dean threw his arms up in defeat. He didn't know what to do. Ellen needed somewhere safe to stay. Bobby stood from his seat and announced "well let's get those wounds cleaned and wrapped for now. Maybe then Sam will be able to handle the smell." Ellen nodded and got to her feet. She limped over to Bobby as they rounded the corner and presumably headed to the bathroom. Dean turned and slouched into the armchair Bobby had been in. "Is Sam gonna be okay?" Jo asked with concern. Without looking at her, Dean answered "I don't know. He might be like this for an hour or all day. I've got no idea." Sam suddenly ended the vicious snarling with a sharp whimper. Dean cringed at the sound and was tempted to put his hands over his ears and block out the horrible noise. 

Instead he settled for nervously running his fingers through his hair. Jo shifted in her seat and crossed her legs. "Have you tried talking to him?" She suggested in a way that revealed her fear, but that it was deeply hidden in a sea of worry. Dean wasn't sure how to respond to that. "What?" He replied. Jo shrugged and laid her hands in her lap. "I mean when he's like this. Have you tried talking to him and getting him to change back?" She asked. Dean turned to her and considered her words. "Not really. I guess could try though." He concluded. Jo smiled minutely and pushed herself to her feet. Dean pursed his lips and lead the way to the basement. When he heard them approaching, Sam further wound himself up. He clawed desperately at the door and growled with rage. Jo stared unblinkingly at the door and swallowed. Dean stepped closer and questioned "hey, Sam, you with me?" The scratching ceased and the growling grew louder and more malicious. Jo's eyes widened and she stiffened nervously. "Sammy, you know I can't let you out till you put the claws away." He pointed out with as casual a voice as he could muster. Sam inhaled deeply, no snarling or scratching. Dean leaned against the wall beside the door and suggested "why don't you try turning back?" Sam breathed slower and eventually growled out "can't."

Jo caught Dean's eye as she looked at him. "He can talk when he's like that?" She asked. Dean nodded and quietly answered "sometimes." He then addressed Sam again. "You recognize that other voice? Can you tell me who it is?" He interrogated. Sam whined and scratched at the door helplessly. "Sam, try. I gotta know how much of you is home right now." Dean ordered. Sam thought for a moment before answering "Jo." Unconfidently. Dean grinned and Jo's eyebrows lifted in surprise at his side. "Good, that's good, man." He encouraged hopefully. Sam released a soft, deep whimper. "You want out? I can't let you wonder around while you're all wolfed out, but I can lock you in the guest room. It's a hell of a lot warmer and there's a bed, which beats the basement." He offered. Sam growled deeply again, but Dean had grown accustomed to it and knew it wasn't always directed at him. Jo nudged his arm and asked "why's he growling at us? He was just doing fine." Dean shook his head and kept his eyes locked on the door. "He's frustrated. It's hard for him to understand what I'm saying." He responded simply. Jo's face fell like her heart was breaking for Sam and he understood the feeling all too well. This damn curse was a nightmare.

Dean wet his lips and simplified the sentence to "wanna go to the guest room?" Sam decoded the meaning to this much faster and responded "yes." Dean moved away from the wall and asked "think you can make it there?" Sam eagerly growled in a playful sort of way. Jo smirked and narrowed her eyes like she couldn't believe what she was hearing. Dean slowly pulled the door open. Sam blinked the light out of his eyes and lifted his lip to reveal jagged, pointed canines. Jo sucked in a shocked breath at his side. Sam hesitantly stepped forward and dug his nose into Dean's shoulder. He breathed Dean in to avoid the lingering scent of blood and intertwined his fingers against his chest to hide the claws. Dean, Sam, and Jo awkwardly made their way up the stairs. In record time, they rushed into the guest bedroom and locked the door behind them. Sam stumbled away from Dean as Jo lingered near the door. "Alright, out." Dean strictly demanded. Jo crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. Dean shook his head and started towards her. "Oh no, I see where this is going. There's no way in hell I'm letting you stay in here." He grumbled with his fists at his sides.

Jo grinned and commented "you can't make me leave. It's my decision and I say I'm staying." She pronounced. Dean blew out a sigh and rolled his eyes. He muttered "fine" and turned away from her. He was too damn tired to argue anymore. He stiffened when he realized he didn't see Sam. "Uhh, Dean" a slightly trembling voice called to him. He whipped around and received the sight of Sam inching closer to Jo. His face was extended and Jo was watching him fearfully. Her jaw was clenched tightly and her muscles were tensed. "Sam" Dean warned. Without glancing at him, Sam closed the distance between him and Jo. He leaned in close and inhaled several short sniffs through his nose. Jo swallowed convulsively as she remained frozen in place. Without warning, Sam leaned in closer and snuggled his face into the crook of her neck. Her eyes widened and Sam released an audible sigh. Dean snorted and couldn't hold back a short chuckle. "I think he likes you." He stated. Jo's forehead creased with confusion as Sam pulled away. Dean grinned brightly and spun around. He dug into his duffel bag laying near the bed and pulled out a heavy, red sphere. "Hey, Sam" he called. Sam turned to him with curious puppy dog eyes and protruding fangs. "Fetch." He commanded. He tossed the ball on the bed and Sam leapt after it with an excited expression. He hopped onto the bed and caught it in his hands. Jo doubled over with laughter and Dean mimicked it. The two were so out of breath that they slid to the floor and sucked in deep gasps. Sam watched them confusedly with a furrowed brow from atop the bed.

Sam leapt down and kneeled in front of Jo. He offered the ball in his clawed hand and for a moment she just seemed stunned until Sam growled impatiently. She quickly ripped it from his grip and threw it onto the bed.  
Dean smiled contentedly as Jo asked "Dean, am I really playing fetch with your werewolf brother?" With a screwed up expression. "Yup." He answered. Jo blinked several times like she was still grasping for a reality that was much more normal than this. They took turns throwing the ball for Sam (it was simultaneously weird as hell and fucking adorable) until he curled up in a ball on the bed and shut his eyes. The silence stretched between the three of them. "So are you guys close to finding a cure?" Jo wondered as she drew a knee up to her chest and rested her arm on it. Dean shook his head disappointedly and looked down. "We've got nothin' so far." He explained. Jo nodded comprehendingly and tugged absentmindedly on the fabric of her jacket. They both flicked their eyes to Sam when he moaned in pain. The claws retracted into his spasming fingers and his teeth shrunk to normal. 

"Dean?" He quietly called in a normal, human voice that didn't sound half like a growl. Dean stood and made his way to the edge of the bed as Sam's eyes fluttered open. "Whas goin' on?" He slurred confusedly. He sat up and rubbed at his head. "Don't you remember?" Jo asked worriedly from across the room. Sam blinked and his eyes landed on her. "Jo?" He addressed confusedly. Jo stood and watched him with a lack of understanding. Dean waved his hand and reassured her "it's okay, this happens every time." Sam seemed just about to ask a question when realization dawned upon him. His face paled and his eyes widened. "Oh fuck-oh shit-I-I almost-Dean, I almost-" he sputtered as he frantically shook his head in shame. Dean planted his hands on Sam's shoulders and calmed him. "It's okay. You didn't and that's all that matters." He said. Sam looked down in horror and drew his knees up to his chest. There was a sudden painful sounding rumbling from his stomach and he squeezed his eyes shut. Dean huffed out a breath and announced "I'll be right back." As he headed out of the door.

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Sam was overwhelmed with guilt. He had been so close to killing Ellen. He had wanted more than anything to fucking eat her and he felt wrong and evil and like he should have a gun in his mouth. He dropped his head in his hands and avoided Jo's gaze. He had tried to kill her mother, how would he ever look her in the eye again? How would he ever do anything again knowing he had been so close to killing a friend? The worst part was probably that he knew if he went back down there and smelt the blood, he would try to again. He was a monster. He was something they hunted. He jumped when he felt a cool touch on his shoulder. His heart rate skyrocketing, Sam scrambled to the back of the bed to get as far away from Jo and her outstretched hand as possible. He drew up his knees and rested his arms on them. He tucked his face into his arms and tried to calm his racing heart. He dug his nails into his leg and clearly pleaded "don't-just-I-please, don't. Don't get closer. I don't wanna hurt you, Jo."

His breaths became more even as he heard Jo retreat to the far wall. "You wouldn't hurt me, Sam. Just like you didn't hurt my mom." Sam held back a sob and retorted "you weren't in my head. You didn't hear what I was thinking. It was...horrible. I deserve to die." He proclaimed miserably. Jo snorted unexpectedly and Sam peeked his eyes over his knees. "You deserve to die? Really, Sam? Yeah, it was pretty fucking sucky that you wanted to eat her, but you didn't. You didn't let yourself. And you know what? You're not even ALL bad when you're like that. I played fetch with you. You were like a puppy. It's not your fault this curse gave you a taste for meat." Jo finished with her arms out in a sort of shrug. This time it was Sam's turn to snort. It was bitter and full of self hate. He felt tears leaking from his eyes. But he didn't bother wiping them away. "You don't get it. It's not just "when I'm like that." It never. Fucking. Stops. If you were to cut yourself right now, do you know what I would do? I'd smell you and fantasize about tearing your muscles to shreds with my teeth and licking the blood away. You know what would happen then? I'd grow claws and fangs and I'd kill you. I'd kill you. I would kill you." He mumbled the words in between growing sobs as the anger drained from him. His eyes blurred from the tears, so he almost didn't notice when Jo shuffled over and sat on the edge of the bed.

He hid his his face in his arms again and held his breath. He didn't want to smell her. He didn't want the thoughts of how good she would taste. He was the big bad wolf and he was a monster and he needed to die. "I know you're trying to not smell me right now, but remember earlier? When you were all wolfy and you came up and smelled me? Didn't kill me then, did yah?" She said. Sam shook his head slowly and hoped she would leave. He couldn't keep risking people's lives by being around them. "Dean and Bobby will find a cure eventually. They're good like that. And you're gonna be okay." She stated confidently. Sam sighed into his arm. He was mentally exhausted and he was so damn hungry and he just wanted it to end. "But do I really deserve to be?" He asked rhetorically. Before Jo could attempt to talk him out of the thought, Dean entered the room with a grocery bag being weighed down. One smell was enough to know the bag contained raw meat. He cringed and held his breath as he tucked his face into the crook of his elbow. His stomach rolled again and he ignored it. "Come on, Sammy, don't be like that. I brought lunch." Dean chirped. Sam's stomach continued to churn and he couldn't breathe too much because if he did, he would become a monster again. "No, don't" he mumbled. Dean set the bag down on the floor and stated "Sam, you've gotta eat." Sam simply shook his head.

Dean sighed and darkly pronounced "you know what happens when you go without eating too long." Sam snapped his head up and replied "yeah, I get sick. I get too weak to hurt anyone and I'm guessing eventually I would die." Dean pressed his lips together and tightly shut his eyes. "And before that?" He questioned reluctantly. Sam clenched his jaw angrily and breathed out "I try to eat people." He flexed his fingers and added "but we could tie me up" Dean stomped closer and accused "Sam, you're asking me to let you die." Sam stood and clenched his fists. "I know what I'm fucking asking, Dean. Although a gun sure as hell would be quicker." He raised his voice. Dean's chest swelled as he faced Sam and stepped closer. "We're looking for a cure, you selfish bastard! You aren't just gonna throw your life away because of a curse!" He yelled angrily. Sam took another step forward and they were almost nose to nose. "Yeah, and where have you gotten with that? You've got nothing. I can't keep living like this hoping that one day you'll somehow stumble upon a fucking cure!" His heart sped up as he almost screamed the words. Dean shook his head and commented "you don't have a choice! I'll lock you up in the basement if I have to." He announced unabashedly.

Sam scoffed and replied "fine! You'll be giving me what I want. Lock me up and I'll starve myself until the world is burdened with one less monster!" He could feel himself shaking with rage and he did nothing to restrain it. "Ha! You couldn't starve yourself if you tried! If I threw a piece of meat in with you, you would wolf out eventually and be all over it. You can't win, Sam." He finished with a light shove to Sam's chest. Sam lifted his lip and screamed with everything in him "I WANT TO DIE! YOU CANT CONTROL ME!" Dean got In Sam's face and threw back "I CAN AND I FUCKING WILL!" With just as much resilience. Dean was yelling something else at him, but Sam couldn't hear over the pounding in his ears. He was so fucking mad. Who the hell did Dean think he was? He didn't own him. A quick shot of pain ran through him and he tried to scream something back into Dean's face, but it came out as an enraged snarl. The blood suddenly ran out of Dean's face and a growl rattled Sam's chest. His blood still pumping with fresh fury, he crashed into Dean and knocked them both to the floor. He bared his sharp teeth and dug his claws into Dean's chest. Dean yelped and he clicked his fangs together and snarled viciously again.

Before his mind caught up and he knew what he was doing, he lunged forward and had Dean's throat in his teeth. "NO!" Jo screamed from across the room. Sam's mind was spinning and he was angry and Dean smelt like food. "Sam" Dean whispered. Sam felt the bobbing of his throat and he shivered with the thought of tasting the inside of it. He began pressing his teeth down and Dean gasped sharply. There was a sudden, intense crack of pain and he felt himself falling.

\-----------------------

When Sam came to, there were muffled voices distantly conversing. "Think he's waking up." The female one observed. "Yeah, looks like it." The other one agreed. That sounded like Dean. Sam tried moving his head in the direction of the voice, but it lolled uselessly to the side. He parted his lips and focused on making them form words. "D'n?" He slurred. His mouth was dry and hard to work. He felt his brow furrow with confusion. "Wh're 'm I?" He weakly asked. He couldn't remember anything. That was worrying. As he returned to consciousness, he realized he had one hell of a headache. "Ahh shit...m'head hurts..." He mumbled. Dean finally responded "yeah, I'll bet. Jo got you pretty good with the hilt of her gun." Sam didn't understand. Was Dean talking about Jo Harvelle? "Wha'?" He muttered with disorientation. There was a hard pressure on his back, so he struggled to move forward. The was a chinking noise and something cold touched his arms where the fabric of his shirt didn't reach. A mere second after it had touched the skin, there was a feeling of burning like he was being scorched. He immediately yelped and leaned backwards. When the pain grew more hot and he heard something sizzling, he desperately squirmed to escape it.

He yelled out in pain and his eyes flew open. A figure kneeled in front of him and there was that chinking noise again as whatever burned him was adjusted and moved over his shirt. He blinked several times and breathed shakily. The figure moved backwards and crossed its arms. As his vision cleared, he recognized Dean and Jo were standing beside each other both staring down at him. "Guess that answers that." Dean vaguely stated. Sam frantically turned his head in every direction trying to figure out where the hell he was. When he eventually looked down, he felt his throat close up. He was in a plain, wooden chair and there was a thick, silver chain around his abdomen and arms keeping him there. He was so fucking confused. All of a sudden the memories rushed back and increased his headache. He held back a sob and bowed his head in shame. There were tears pooling in his eyes and he couldn't look up because he would see Dean's disappointment and Jo's fear. He couldn't even apologize because the words would never be enough. He simply took short, shallow breaths and hoped that one of them would have the common sense to shoot him in the head.

"Sam?" Dean addressed calmly. Sam couldn't help it as the words pushed their way from his mouth in a useless babble. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I-I didn't mean-I wasn't trying to-I'm just-fuck, Dean, I'm sorry." The tears spilled down his cheeks as he kept his head down and he whispered one last miserable "s-sorry." He knew it meant nothing. He knew Dean hated him. He knew he hated himself. He tensed and froze when a gentle hand stroked the back of his head. "I know you're sorry. I forgive you." Sam reluctantly lifted his head and croaked "you shouldn't" as a new round of tears welled up. 

\-----------------------

The rest of the day was quiet. Jo had eventually retreated downstairs to be with Ellen and Sam had simply hung his head and silently weeped. Every time he lifted his tear stained face and avoided meeting Dean's eyes, it broke his heart a little more. Every now and then the silver chain would slip down and burn his arms. Sam would, presumably as punishment, keep quiet until they burned so hot that he couldn't hold back a whimper. There were several blistering marks littering his skin. At one point Sam had actually passed out from the pain and Dean was so pissed that he hadn't asked him to move the chain that he had bitched Sam out the moment he awoke. That had proven to be a mistake as Sam just took every word of it and agreed. Aggravated by Sam's lack of willingness to avoid the pain unsettled Dean and he eventually laid a thin blanket over his abdomen and placed the chain over it. He itched to remove the torture device wrapped around his brother, but Dean had to be sure he couldn't escape. He didn't want to think about Sam slipping out and grabbing the sharpest object in sight and-no. He would not imagine it.

"Please say you're putting me in the basement" Dean was startled by Sam's cracked, misery ridden words. He stood up from the bed and faced him. Sam's hair was still falling in his forward-tilted face. "What?" Dean spoke. Sam sucked in a breath like speaking to him was physically painful. "Y-you're putting me in the basement tonight, right?" He asked despairingly. Dean inched closer and stopped when Sam flinched like he expected to be hit. There was a clenching in his gut when he realized that was exactly what his little brother thought he deserved. He crossed his arms as if it could somehow ease the pain in his tight chest and lightly responded "nope." Sam's head slowly lifted and he kept his eyes off Dean's face. He pursed his lips and swallowed convulsively. "'S not safe...for Ellen. And you." He weakly pleaded. Dean could see the inner struggle flashing across Sam's face. He wanted to demand, to fight to be locked up because he didn't want to hurt someone, but he was so stuffed full of guilt that he didn't think he deserved to demand anything.

"Leave it to me to figure out. I won't let anything happen." He confidently stated. With what seemed to be immense effort, Sam locked eyes with Dean. "You don't understand." He pronounced softly. Dean had a feeling the answer would feel like a punch, but he questioned "what don't I understand?" Grimly. Sam shook his head minutely. He clenched his jaw and seemed to think for a moment before responding. "I don't want you to see me become a monster." He said In quiet shame. Dean scrubbed his hands over his face and plopped onto the bed. He released a shaky breath and announced "alright. I'll put you in the basement if it's what you really want." Sam loosened at the words and nodded jerkily. Dean turned back towards the window and stared out regretfully at the sinking sun. "C'mon, Sammy." He said as he unwrapped the chains from him. Sam stood on unstable legs and dropped the blanket onto the bed. Feeling like he was leading a prisoner to his cell, Dean followed him to the basement and closed the door.

He entered the living room and clenched his eyes shut. He was in a daze and almost didn't notice when he shuffled to the kitchen and dug out a bottle of alcohol. He returned to the arm chair and welcomed the scorching of the liquid sliding down his throat. Ellen, Jo, and Bobby were also seated around the room with eyes flicking up to him every now and then. By the time Sam had started screaming and the reverberations of breaking bones echoed throughout the house, he had a strong buzz. The process was longer, louder, and Sam's screams were more filled with agony than they had ever been. Dean guessed it was because he was probably resisting more than normal, but he drowned the troublesome thought with more of the mind-altering liquid. Jo and Ellen's eyes were large and their faces were pale while Bobby simply had pinched lips and the areas around his eyes were tighter. Sam made a particularly tortured moan and Dean downed the bottle.

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"Dean. Dean?" A young, muffled voice called to him through the hangover. Dean groaned and cracked his droopy eyes open. He snapped them shut when the light hit him like a truck and made his head pound. "Sam, c'n you get me s'm asprin?" He slurred. He began sinking deeper into sleep when the voice corrected "I'm not Sam. It's Jo. Wake the hell up, Dean." Dean's brow furrowed as he sifted through his mind for memory. "Jo?" He asked tiredly. He forced his eyes open again and cringed at the light. Jo's face was tense and the bags under her eyes were more prominent. Dean blinked several times and Jo leaned away from him with crossed arms. "D'you sleep?" He asked quietly. Jo tightly shook her head and her forehead creased. She ran her tongue over her lips and answered "Sam was going crazy. It was too loud." Her voice was swelled with sympathy as she turned her eyes to the floor. Dean groaned as the memories of Sam's condition and getting drunk the night before trickled back. He ran his fingers through his hair and stood unsteadily. Jo backed up and eyed him like he was about to fall over, which was a possibility.

His head spun and his stomach flipped uncomfortably. He dropped his head into his hands and mumbled "why the hell'd you wake me up?" Jo tiredly responded "Sam stopped making noise. Figured he's pretty cold down there if he turned back." Dean dropped his hands and felt the urge to hit himself in the head. How could he have gotten drunk off his ass knowing Sam would need him in the morning? Dean cursed under his breath as he swiped up a long, maroon blanket and quickly shuffled to the basement. He swung open the door and ungracefully stumbled down the steps. He stopped when he spotted Sam's pale, shivering form curled in a ball with tightly shut eyes. Dean sighed and draped the blanket over him. He knelt down and laid a hand on the fabric over Sam's shoulder. His eyes pried open and slowly focused on Dean. "D-" Was all he could get out in his exhausted state. His voice cracked and his eyes were fighting to shut. "C'mon, man. I'm hungover so this ain't gonna be easy getting you upstairs. I need you to help" Dean pleaded a bit desperately. Sam made a noncommittal noise in his throat and struggled to sit up. He tugged the blanket tighter around himself. Dean grabbed Sam's upper arm and together they forced themselves to their feet. Getting up the stairs was uncoordinated, but when they made it, Sam all but collapsed against him. He was breathing shallowly and he appeared exhausted.

Dean supported him the rest of the way to the living room. He gently dropped Sam on the couch and shuffled back to the armchair he had slept in. Jo was watching Sam from a stiff chair with a worried expression. "Hey, Sam." She greeted with a forced smile. Sam's gaze sluggishly shifted around the room until they landed on her. He leaned against the arm of the couch and his tightly pressed lips twitched up a bit in an attempted grin. Dean shielded his sensitive eyes with the crook of his arm and slightly croaked "what happened last night, man? Jo said you were goin' crazy down there." Sam was silent for too long before answering "wasn't me." Disappointedly. Dean dropped his arm and almost screamed with irritation when he realized Sam had returned to shamefully staring at the ground. "What do you mean it wasn't you?" Jo asked confusedly. Dean really fucking wished she hadn't. Sam's forehead creased and for a split second he looked like he wanted to scream too. "Like when I almost killed Dean." He explained quietly. Jo flinched like she had been struck and her mouth gaped guiltily. Dean couldn't bring himself to be angry with her. She wouldn't have intentionally tried to make it worse for Sam. She glanced at Dean with an apologetic look.

He made a mental note to let her know he wasn't mad later. He dropped the thought for the moment and asked "how're you feeling, Sam?" Sam shifted in his seat as he finally allowed his eyes to shut and shortly replied "feel like shit. Tired." Dean nodded and threw back with little heat "I can see that." A moment later he reluctantly clarified "What I meant was, are you hungry? Like HUNGRY hungry?" Sam tensed and pulled the blanket over his head as he wrapped himself in it. He curled up and laid on his side with half of it under him. "Please." He begged without specifying what for, but Dean knew. He didn't want to smell the meat; he didn't want it to make him turn. Dean sighed in exasperation and chided "Sam. You need to eat. I'll work with you on turning back faster, but it's been way too long, man. It'll happen one of two ways and you know it. You turn and eat the damn meat, or you turn and try to eat one of us. I know you wouldn't end up doing it, but it'll make you feel even more like shit." He snapped. Sam's jaw clenched and he nodded shortly. Jo intertwined her fingers and kept her eyes on them through the exchange. "Can you...get the meat? Please?" Sam requested awkwardly and with more than a little trepidation. Dean smiled internally at the small victory as he got up from his chair. They still had to find a damn cure, but for now, things would be alright.


	12. Chapter 12

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The day had been without incident. Sam had turned and eaten several large pieces of meat then successfully turned back, he had been around Ellen without being too bother by the healing wounds on her arms, and he had even smiled several times. It was relaxing and even a little boring. Dean was grateful for the uneventful hours as the hope that their lives hadn't completely crumbled built. The sun had recently set and Dean sat outside of the bathroom as Sam yelled out in pain, though it was not nearly as bad as the night before. When he pawed at the door, Dean grinned and opened it wide. He had a feeling now that Sam wasn't getting as worked up as before, it was easier to stay himself. This was a weird fucking curse. Everything being tied to the man's emotions couldn't have been easy with all he was going through. Sam happily trotted out and down the stairs. Dean trailed him lazily into the living room.

Sam stopped just before entering the room and his tail slowly dropped between his legs. Ellen and Jo were staring shocked and wide eyed at the bushy, brown wolf. Dean could practically feel the waves of fear and humiliation and shame radiating from his brother, so he dropped his hand and scratched between his ears. Sam quickly whipped his head up and licked Dean's hand once. Dean couldn't help but grin widely as he ripped it away and announced "dammit, Sam, that's fucking disgusting." Sam's tongue lolled out of his mouth in a satisfied way. Dean chuckled and playfully pushed his head away. Sam retaliated by growling lightly and nudged his head into his side. Dean barked out laughter and when he lifted his head, Ellen and Jo were watching them with wonder and amusement rather than fear. Jo smirked and sat cross legged on the floor. "C'mere, Sam" she said as she patted her lap welcomely. Sam glanced uncertainly at Jo and made his way to her. Without hesitation, she stroked the fur on his back gently. Sam melted into the petting and flopped to the floor. Jo smiled ecstatically and scratched his ears. Dean strutted to the couch and sat beside Ellen. He watched in relief as Jo calmly sprawled out and ran her fingers through Sam's scruffy neck fur and he seemed to drink in the attention. 

"Well how 'bout that" Ellen muttered in slight awe. Dean turned to her to see that she was watching Sam and Jo in fascination. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and explained "he isn't usually like...how you first saw him. As long as there isn't exposed blood and he's eaten, he's basically a giant puppy thanks to the potion. Before that he had no control." He didn't know why the words were spilling out. He just felt a strong urge to defend Sam even as a wolf. Ellen nodded acceptingly and turned her head away from them. "I'm not holdin' a grudge against him. You know that, right?" Ellen assured him. Dean nodded and leaned back comfortably. "I know" he mumbled with a sigh. Dean returned to watching Sam just in time to see him stand. Jo gave him one final pet as he slowly turned around and eyed Ellen. Dean felt himself tense as he leaned forward, prepared to react. Sam stared up at her with large doe eyes as he stalked forward. "Sam" Dean snapped in warning. Sam glanced at him for half a second and returned his eyes to Ellen. "Sammy, don't" Dean pleaded frantically. "Sam, please, no" Jo cautiously said as she got to her feet. Sam ignored them and slowly stepped forward. The room seemed to freeze as Sam stuck his face closer to Ellen and he sniffed. They all bored their eyes nervously into the wolf as he nudged his nose against her arm. He pushed it against the skin and forced it to turn over. He eyed the healing criss-crossed cuts for a moment and Dean felt himself begin to lurch forward as he moved closer to them. He froze when Sam stuck his tongue out, exposing his threatening canines, and licked the thin scabs affectionately. 

Everyone in the room gaped at him until he lowered his head and dropped it on Ellen's knee. He stared up at her unblinkingly and whined low in his throat. Still a bit stunned, she reached her hand to him carefully and rubbed his ear. He let his eyes fall shut as he enjoyed the stroking. Dean sank back into his seat with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. Jo had a similar expression from across the room. "It's okay, Sammy. She forgives you." Dean reassured him. Sam gave her hand one last lick and backed up. He trotted with his tail swinging to the rug and curled in a tight ball on it. His breathing evened out as he quickly fell asleep. Dean jumped as Jo unexpectedly snorted. Ellen and Dean both turned to her curiously. She was smiling happily and stated "just a giant puppy." 

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It was almost sunrise when the night went bad. Dean had accidentally nodded off, but was awaken by the chilling sound of Sam's growls. He shot up and instinctively ripped the handgun from his waistband. Before he was fully awake, he steadily pointed it at the chest of a figure. His eyes cleared and revealed to him a dark haired man that appeared to be in his twenties wearing all black. His expression was neutral and unreadable. "Who the hell are you?" Dean demanded. The man tilted his head in a bored way and Dean's hand was suddenly struck with an intense burning. "Ahhh!" He exclaimed as his fingers uncurled from the gun and it dropped to the floor with a clunk. He cradled his steaming hand and angrily muttered "witch" the man shrugged and stuck his hands in his pant pockets. "Well warlock, but y'know." He corrected. Just as Dean went to reach for the gun, it slid to the other side of the room and was stopped by the wall. There was the sound of a shotgun being cocked, then another handgun. "Drop it, you son of a bitch." Ellen snarled. "What she said." Bobby added gruffly. Dean sighed when the guns were ripped from their hands and joined his own against the wall.

"Well, you've got us. Now what the hell d'you want?" Bobby asked. The warlock clasped his hands behind his back and gestured with his head to Sam, who was standing beside Dean growling with his neck fur standing up. Dean protectively stepped in front of him and sharply threatened "You even try touching my brother and it won't be him ripping your throat out." The warlock released a smooth, casual laugh and shook his head. "Oh, I wouldn't need to touch him to do what I want when I've got the magic fingers...if I wanted" he said as he exposed his hands and wiggled his fingers dramatically. Bobby stepped forward with an enraged expression and spat out "What exactly do you PLAN on doing with him?" The warlock smirked amusedly and clicked tongue. "This is about revenge, hunter. Your little friend here-" he pointed to Dean accusingly. "And his pet brother iced my mother...or should I say burned?" He wondered with a delighted grin. Dean snorted sarcastically. "You don't seem too broken up about it." He observed. The warlock shrugged again and stated "well, mommy dearest and I only seemed to get along when she was teaching me spells, but we were blood. What can I say? I'm sentimental."

Dean caught movement in his eye, but kept his vision trained on the warlock. He could distantly hear him speaking, but Dean's focus was really on the blonde figure inching her way closer from behind him with something in her hand reflecting light. He held his breath and refrained from looking directly at who he now recognized as Jo. The warlock suddenly flicked his eyes to the side and with a gasp, Jo was flung against the wall and held there by an invisible force. The knife clattered out of her hand and she grunted in pain. "Don't you hurt her or I swear-" Ellen began warning, but was cut off by the warlock's overpowering voice. "-or what? You'll try shooting me again with your little gun? You've got no choice in what happens to anyone here. Your fates are all in my hands...but you're in luck. I don't intend on hurting any of you. Just finishing my mother's work." He announced. Dean raised his eyebrows and furiously asked through clenched teeth "what work?" The warlock smiled brilliantly and his eyes shone wickedly. He muttered "you'll see." And narrowed his gaze on Sam. Dean prepared to tackle the asshat, but his muscles were held in place. The only things he could move were his eyes and lips. That son of a bitch. "Leave him alone, you bastard!" He yelled through his teeth.

His heart pounded nervously as the warlock kneeled down. Sam appeared to be frozen too as he laid his hands against the sides of his head and shut his eyes. The warlock muttered something under his breath. After a few seconds, Sam whined and collapsed to the floor. "SAM!" Dean screamed. The warlock cracked his neck and got to his feet. "Relax. He's not dead, just sleeping. Now I can go back to living my life knowing that my mother got the curse she wanted. Enjoy my little gift, hunter." He said. He snapped his fingers and disappeared without a trace. Dean stumbled forward as his muscles were freed and he immediately dropped to the floor beside Sam. He dug his hand into the fur over his shoulder blade and shook it desperately. "Sam?! Sammy!" He called as he attempted to rouse him. A hand dropped on Dean's shoulder and Bobby comfortingly said "Dean, the warlock said he's just sleeping. Give him time, he'll wake up. Remember, we don't know what the asshole did to him yet. He might just be adjusting to it." Dean nodded, but remained by Sam.

Time passed in an anxiety filled blur. Everyone around him was moving and talking, but he stayed as still as Sam. When the sun began rising, he covered Sam in the maroon blanket. He sat through the disturbing sound of popping bones and stretching skin without allowing his eyes to leave the shifting fabric. He slowly pulled the blanket away and Sam's dark eyes were open; tracking him. "Sam? You alright?" Dean asked with relief. He blinked uncomprehendingly. "Oh shit" Dean cursed as Sam's lips parted to reveal animalistic fangs. Without time to react, Sam scrabbled backwards with the blanket clinging to the front of him. Dean held his palms out and considered what course of action to take. Sam's eyes darted all around the room nervously. His claws were digging into the carpet and his teeth were bared in a low growl. Dean flinched when something zoomed past him and suddenly there was a dart sticking out of Sam's neck. His eyes began to droop as he swayed unsteadily. He flashed Dean a terror filled expression and lost his balance. He fell on his side and twitched as he desperately fought for control of his body. Dean thanked Bobby and they moved him to the couch. Once they had laid him down, Bobby stated "Well, I think I know what that bastard did to him now. Made him unable to be full human."

Dean boiled with anger and fear. "Yeah. I think you're right...but if it's anything like last time, he won't be out long. I'm not putting him in the basement, so we need to figure something out fast." He pronounced unyieldingly. Bobby huffed out a breath and said "I agree with you there. If he might not turn back human, there ain't no way we're just leaving him down there." Dean nodded in relief that they were on the same page so far. "For now we could use those silver handcuffs" he suggested. Bobby gestured for him to get them and Dean jogged out of the room.

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When Dean returned with the handcuffs hanging from his hand, him and Bobby decided Sam should stay in the living room where they could all keep an eye on him. before continuing, he took the opportunity to awkwardly dress sam. He then attached one cuff to the wooden arm of the heaviest chair and tested that it couldn't easily be dragged away. He and Bobby took Sam by the arms and sat him in the chair. Just as Bobby was about to clamp down the other cuff, Dean took his wrist and mumbled "wait." Bobby scanned him and worriedly asked "what?" Dean held up his index finger to signal that he would be right back and calmly moved into the kitchen. He emerged into the living room and wrapped a dry dish rag around Sam's wrist. He nodded his head to Bobby who tightly locked the cuff.

The room was too quiet before Sam awoke. Ellen was lounging on the old couch beside Bobby, Jo was in a wooden rocking chair looking stiff, and Dean was leaning against the wall across from his mostly unconscious brother. Every now and then Sam would whine or growl, but his eyes remained shut. When they finally opened, the action was groggy and weighed down by tiredness. Dean nudged his boot against Sam's bare foot. "How're you doing, Sammy?" He asked softly and with the best smile he could muster. It didn't reach his eyes, but it rarely did lately. Sam lifted his head and sluggishly looked around the room. His body tensed and he shook his head once to wake himself up. There was a quiet growl forming in his throat, but it came out as a frightened whine as he noticed more people in the room. His eyes grew wide and Dean could practically hear his heart racing. Dean stepped forward and kneeled down in front of him; just out of reach. Sam snarled angrily and pushed his back further into the chair. Just as Dean reached out to him, he yanked his hand back, but was stopped by the handcuffs. He stared down at them confusedly. He reached his other hand to them and touched the surface. He yelped and tore it away when the silver burned his skin with a sizzling sound. The yelp caught Dean's attention in a way that creased his forehead and froze his limbs in place as he replayed it in his head.

It had sounded distinctly human; distinctly Sam. Dean leaned in closer and Sam's breathing quickened. "Hey, Sam, you understand me?" He slowly asked. Sam bared his teeth in a low growl and Dean blew air out of his nose. Without truly thinking it through, he snatched Sam's free hand in his own and pressed the knuckles against the chain of the handcuffs. He held it there with all of his strength as Sam helplessly thrashed and screamed. "Dean, what the hell are you doing?!" Bobby fumed incredulously from the other side of the room. Dean ignored him and remained still as Sam released a blood curdling screech. Dean yelled through clenched teeth "Do. You. Understand me?!" Sam nodded vigorously and Dean released his iron grip on him. He dropped his hand to his side and flexed his fingers. His breathing was fast not from fear this time, but from the pain. "You with me?" Dean hopefully questioned. Sam glared at him with his fangs hanging out and for a moment, his heart sank. That changed when Sam swallowed and growled "fucking...hurt" in between filling his lungs with breaths.

Dean barked out a victorious laugh and grinned like a maniac. Sam cocked his head uncomprehendingly at Dean's joy. "It's pain." He explained. "Pain brings you back. At least a little." Sam stared holes through him with a furrowed brow. Dean frantically reached out for Sam's wrist again, but he jerked it back. "Still me" he stated with his rumbling, wolfy voice. Dean blew out a relieved breath and sat back on his heels. Sam turned his head and glanced at the other occupants of the room. He then dropped it guiltily and let his hair hide his eyes. Dean stood and lightly kicked his foot again. "Hey, don't do that. Everyone here knows this isn't your fault. We're gonna get you better. Just do me a favor and try to stay you for as long as possible." Dean requested. Sam looked up at him with troubled eyes and nodded, his lips tightly pressed together. After a moment of silence, Dean offered "breakfast?" Sam couldn't contain the signs of his eagerness as he nodded quickly.

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Dean was silently reading one of Bobby's books to research a cure, as were Jo, Ellen, and Bobby. He was sprawled out on the floor when he could no longer take it. For the past several hours, Sam had been scratching his claws against the wooden arm of his chair, whipping his head in a new direction every minute or so, and tapping his foot quickly. All of this was occurring at the same time and it was driving Dean insane. His eyes burned holes into Sam in a failed attempt to get him to sit still. Sam dug his claws into the glossy wood with an irritating screeching noise and Dean snapped. "Sam! What the hell is your problem?" He finally yelled. Sam turned his head to him, but his foot continued to tap at a speed so quick that Dean thought it might fall off of his ankle. "Bored." Sam growled through his large teeth. His eyes flicked down in a way that made it apparent to Dean that this was a part of his condition that was impossible to control. Dean gestured with his hand to an untouched stack of books. "Wanna help with research?" He offered. Sam sighed like it wasn't the response he had been hoping for and eventually nodded. Dean got to his feet with a tired grunt and swiftly picked the first book up. He strode over to Sam and dropped it in his lap. Without a glance back, he returned to lying on his stomach in front of his own book.

Unable to resist, he watched Sam from the corner of his eye as he pretended to read. Sam's brow was furrowed; his forehead deeply creased in concentration as he ran the claw of his index finger over each string of words. He seemed to be mouthing the words with great difficulty. He clenched his jaw and balled his fist. He pulled it away and screwed his eyes shut. The breaths he took in were large and inconsistent. Dean ran his tongue over his lips and uttered "Sam?" Sam shook his head minutely in response. "You can't read...can you?" Dean asked knowingly. "Trying. Really am." Sam defended weakly in his rumbling voice. Dean stood and casually walked over to him. He gripped the book in his hand and pulled of away. He felt a stab of sympathy as Sam's throat bobbed and his expression oozed agitation. "It's okay, Sammy." Dean assured as he gripped his shoulder. Sam lifted his miserable, worn eyes to him. "Tired. Always tired." He stated unenthusiastically. Dean nodded with understanding. He felt the same lately. Dean patted his shoulder once and returned to researching.

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The sun was minutes away from setting and Dean couldn't delay any longer. He approached Sam and knelt down; eyes focused on the handcuffs. He couldn't tell if Sam was himself at the moment, so he was going to have to bring him to the basement to be safe. He had been periodically drifting in and out of awareness throughout the day. Every now and then he would growl at Dean with predatory eyes then snap back to himself a minute later. Either way, it hadn't been too much of an issue up until that point. He slipped the small key out of his pocket and stuck the end into the hole. With a turn and a click, they snapped open and Dean pulled it from Sam's wrist. There was suddenly a weight against him and he was being pushed backwards. He grunted as he fell back on his ass and immediately hefted himself back up. Sam whipped around the corner of the hallway and out of sight. "Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed under his breath. He pushed himself off of the wall and sprinted away. Sam clawed at the front door for a second and Dean almost caught him. He began panicking as Sam turned the door knob and threw it open. "Sam!" Dean desperately screamed into the chilly air. Without a look back, Sam used all of his speed to escape the house.

Dean leapt from the porch and ran as fast as he ever had. His heart was hammering so quickly that it felt like it was gonna race off without him. His ears were pounding and he could barely hear himself screaming Sam's name. His legs ached with burning and his chest was tight, but he kept his focus on the distant figure becoming smaller and smaller. He followed Sam into the patch of woods and clumsily avoided the obstacles littering the ground. He tripped over a branch and almost lost his balance. Sam turned behind a cluster of large trees and disappeared from Dean's sight. The thick canopy of leaves above him were hiding the fading stream of light and visibility grew dimmer as he sprinted aimlessly. "SAMMY!" Dean screeched with the last of the breath in his lungs. His legs were gonna give out on him soon if he didn't rest, but his foggy mind wouldn't allow him to stop as he was ravaged with nagging thoughts. If Dean didn't catch him, Sam could kill someone. He might never get him back again. Sam could be killed by hunters. He had to keep going. He forced his rubbery legs to carry his weight as he emerged into a clearing. 

He froze and fell to his knees. He breathed in gulps and gasps of air that moved his whole body. He took in the sight before him with the gears turning in his slow head. Sam was on his knees about twenty feet from him. "S-" Dean began, but was cut off by a violent fit of coughing and hacking. As the black cleared from his vision, he began noticing small details. Like the bloody squirrel carcass cradled in Sam's claws and being held to his mouth as he sunk his fangs into it. And the dark blood gushing over his chest and spread around his mouth. "Sammy" Dean huffed out as he recovered from the run. Sam whipped his head to him and growled deeply. Except Dean knew that kid, human and wolf. He wasn't growling in fear or anger or because he felt threatened. It was simply because he didn't want Dean to take his furry meal. He returned to taking greedy bites without looking back up. Dean subtly inched closer on his hands and knees. He was a few feet away when Sam finally noticed. He lifted his lip and snarled a warning. Dean held out his palms and cautiously assured "hey, I'm not takin' your food. Just...remember, okay? You gotta, Sammy. You have to come with me back to Bobby's now." Sam eyed him for a moment then licked the blood off his lips. 

Dean took a risk and slowly stood. When Sam stared up at him with slight confusion, Dean leaned down and lightly gripped his elbow. Sam obediently stood and watched Dean curiously. Dean tugged his arms until he trailed behind him, still nibbling on the dead creature. He was leaking relief from his pores as he directed Sam to the way back to Bobby's. That is, until the familiar boom of a gun shooting pounded in his ears. He flinched and turned around as Sam wrenched from his grip and fell to the ground. Dean immediately dropped with him and gripped his shoulders. "Sammy?" Dean said before he knew it was leaving his mouth. His voice was drowned out when Sam screamed loud and tortured and desperate. His face was strained and there were veins sticking out in his neck, but he continued the awful sound. Shivers crawled down Dean's back and he wanted the noise to stop, he wanted whatever pain he was going through to cease. Something red and thick drew his eyes to the far off side of Sam's lower abdomen. There was a wound leaking a stream of blood. There as also a sizzling noise like something was burning him from the inside. "Oh shit" Dean muttered. "Get away from that thing, son." A gritty voice yelled over Sam's agonized screams. 

Dean jumped to his feet and faced two gruff looking men wearing camouflage hats and pointing guns at Sam. As the pieces clicked together, Dean felt his insides burn with hate and rage. Ignoring the deadly weapons, he stepped forward and swung his fist into the closest man's nose. The man yelped and brought his hands up to it. A feeling of pleasure and unfulfilled satisfaction flooded Dean. He wasn't done yet, but it was the other man's gun that still had a wisp of smoke leaving it. He side stepped and his fists flew without restraint. He punched and scratched until they were both on the ground and he was out of breath and there was the barrel of a gun nudging his head forward. The man's face was bloody and he was moaning in pain, but it was barely heard over his brother's screams, so he felt no sympathy. He stood and slowly turned around. Still filled with rage, he smacked the gun away and out of the man's hands. "Dean!" Bobby's strong voice broke through the pained sounds Sam continued to howl out. He came into view beside him and pointed his own gun at the angry man. "What the Hell's goin' on?" Bobby demanded from both of them. 

"That son of a bitch's buddy shot Sam with silver. I need to make sure he's okay." Dean suddenly realized out loud. He began turning, but Bobby stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "I had Ellen follow me with a medical kit when I saw you going after him. I didn't know if you'd try getting him back and if things would go well or not." He admitted. Dean twisted his neck to see Ellen bent down doing something to Sam's injured area and Jo holding him down with all of her strength. He was thrashing slightly, but remained still enough for her to work. The screaming stopped a second later and was replaced with whimpers and moans of pain. Dean turned his head back and Bobby cocked his gun. "You better get the hell outta here, Ron, before I empty my gun into you for shooting my boy." He threatened with a dangerous calmness."your 'boy' is a monster, Singer. Me and Joey came across him, he's our hunt." The man retorted mercilessly. Without even blinking, Bobby aimed his gun down and pulled the trigger. Ron jumped back with a surprised gasp and glared at Bobby. He quickly shuffled to his friend, Joey, and helped him up. Shooting one last hateful look, they both fleed the clearing. 

"Thanks, Bobby." Dean said gratefully. Bobby nodded without letting his eyes leave the patch of woods the men had disappeared into.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know it sucks but I totally ran out of ideas for this story and then a lot of shit went down at my house so I ended up moving and it's been crazy so I haven't really been writing but I made a promise to myself to finish this one so here you go :)

The walk back to bobby's was all stumbling and agitated grunts. Bobby and Dean each had one of Sam's arms slung over their shoulders as they dragged him through the woods. His feet skimmed the uneven ground and his eyelids fluttered lightly. His breathing was too shallow for comfort, but Dean pushed that from his mind. He needed to focus on one thing at a time here and he couldn't allow himself to worry until Sam was in the basement and away from people before the sun went down. By time the house was in view, Sam's muscles were strained and he had begun making small moaning noises.

Dean almost prayed that Sam could hold on until they reached the house and with every step he took, his heart beat a little faster. "Come on..." He had begun whispering under his breath because they were so close, but Sam was gripping Dean like a lifeline as he was racked with tremors. Sam crumbled to the ground as his weight suddenly dropped. Dean and Bobby immediately fell to the ground with him and grasped his arms. They struggled to pull him back up with little help from Sam.

Dean held his breath as he yanked and they finally got Sam somewhat on his feet. Dean didn't allow the breath out until they reached past the old porch and slammed the front door behind them. Gathering every last drop of energy he had, Dean supported Sam and raced him to the basement. When they reached near the bottom of the stairs, Sam yelped and hunched over. Dean scrabbled for His shirt, but it was just out of reach and Sam lost his balance. He reached his arm out a second too late and tumbled down the wooden stairs with a painful sounding thump.

"Sam!" Dean yelped as he practically flew down the rest of the stairs. He kneeled down beside Sam, who was spread out awkwardly on his back with his eyes fighting to stay open. He tiredly turned his head to Dean and swallowed with a wince. Dean reached out his hand and rubbed Sam's shoulder comfortingly before he even knew what he was doing. Sam's lips twitched and he slowly lifted his clawed hand. It shook as he lightly dropped it on his abdomen. he dragged his eyes down and brought his palm up into his line of vision. It was dripping with deep blood that had soaked through his shirt from the bullet wound. "Hey, hey, it's okay. It's alright. We're gonna get that stitched up in the morning, okay? As soon as the sun's up. You've been through worse, right?" Dean rambled nervously. Sam clenched his eyes shut and nodded once. His chest rose and fell with quick, pained breaths and Dean knew he had to leave.

He pulled his fingers through Sam's hair as he stroked and Sam made agonized sounds. Dean knew he had to leave, but he couldn't make his legs work. They were rubbery and his muscles ached from holding Sam up and It didn't feel like this was ever gonna end. With tremendous effort and zero grace, Dean forced himself to his feet and wobbled up the stairs with Sam's fresh screams ringing in his ears. He was so tired of hearing his brother scream. They had to do something about this once and for all. The thought never left him as he locked the basement door behind him.

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"Bobby, he can't stay like this anymore. We need a cure now." Dean demanded harshly as he stomped into the living room. His hands shook at his sides as he angrily eyed the older man lounging on an armchair with a dusty book in his lap. Bobby barely twitched at the words and watched Dean with a lack of surprise. The second bobby's eyes calmly met his own, Dean knew he had news. He flexed his fists and prepared for the worst. "What is it?" he ground out as he averted his eyes. Bobby pressed his lips together for a second before vaguely answering. "Maybe a solution. Or maybe it'll just make things worse." Dean felt his features twist with confusion. "What?" He determinately pressed on. Bobby lifted his hand and pulled off his hat. He ran a hand over his head and gently pressed it back on.

"A hunter I know left me a message saying that he knew a couple of 'good witches' that could fix Sam. It's the closest thing we've had to an answer, but 'good witches?' Im not sure there is such a thing." Bobby voiced skeptically. Dean stared Bobby down without blinking. "Witches are the ones that got us into this damn mess. I'm not gonna go running to some hocus pocus bitches begging for them to fix my brother when it's their kind that fucked him up in the first place!" He fumed. Bobby shook his head and stood up patiently. "Dean, I'm not happy about having to say it, but they might be our only chance. Like you said, he can't stay like this anymore. We may have to just take a risk."

Dean processed Bobby's words and impatiently ran his fingers through his hair. He almost didn't notice the fact that he had begun pacing back and forth across the room. He avoided the urge to wring his hands together in thought. "Alright, say these witches do have a way to cure Sam, you think they're just gonna do it out of the goodness of their hearts? No way in hell. What would they want from us in return?" Dean asked knowingly. Bobby seemed to think for a moment and replied. "Guess I'd have to call that hunter friend and see what their price is. That is, if you're considering letting them try." He shrugged lightly and gestured to the corded phone. Dean ran over his options because he really didn't want to put his brother's fate in the hands of witches, but he realized he didn't have any. It was either let them try to fix Sam or keep mindlessly searching Bobby's books for an answer. He clenched his jaw and spoke. "Make the damn call." He spat out through his teeth. Bobby looked as if he was about to say something about Dean's tone but must have realized that the anger wasn't directed toward him because he walked to the old phone and began dialing.

\-------------- 

The hunter had said he would get in contact with the witches and call back ASAP. Apparently ASAP was about three hours later. Dean had nearly emptied a bottle of alcohol in the time and was irritated to find that it didn't ease his nagging anxiety as much as he had hoped it would. Meanwhile Sam continued to howl and growl through the night, but that was no surprise. Dean jumped when the phone rang and Bobby almost immediately picked it up. He spoke a gruff greeting and listened intently to the other line, occasionally mumbling a vague response. When the conversation ended, he set the phone down and resettled himself into his armchair. "They want protection." He bluntly explained. Dean tightly crossed his arms over his chest. "From what?" He asked. Bobby rolled his shoulders and snorted lightly. "Us. We ain't allowed to touch 'em and we gotta tell all of the hunters we know to leave 'em be." He explained.

Dean felt some of his tension ease as his arms dropped. "Seriously. That's all they want?" He asked disbelievingly. His brow creased with deep thought. There was no way a couple of witches were willing to help a damn hunter reverse a curse without asking for something more than some half ass protection. Bobby shrugged, but there was a twinkle of hope in his aging eyes that made him seem ten years younger. "Can hardly believe it myself, but yeah. They said they could be here by tonight. The only problem I see is that the spell has to be at night because the effects of the curse are at their fullest. So you're gonna have to go down there-" he gestured with his hand to the floor. "And get Sam under control while they get here." Dean nodded and squared his shoulders. Not wanting to any waste time, he jogged to the basement door. He stopped with his hand on the knob when he heard an agitated growl somewhere on the other side. He forced his hand to cautiously wrap around the hilt of his gun and he swallowed. "Sammy, it's me. I'm coming in, alright? Don't bite my head off or I'll be pissed." He joked with a humorless chuckle. There was no noise from Sam as he slowly turned the knob. He cracked the door open and slipped inside. The second the door clicked shut, the growling began again, low and threatening.

"Knock it off, Sam, before I spray you with water." He nearly whispered. He clutched the gun tighter and descended down the steep staircase. The stairs creaked as he pressed his weight on each board. When he reached the bottom, there was a stillness in the air. Neither him nor Sam moved or, as far as he could tell, breathed. The room was barely lit by moonlight coming in from the windows, but Dean could see Sam's frozen outline and his neck fur standing up. "Hey...Sam? You know me, right?" Dean asked uncertainly. Sam shifted on his paws with a few clicking noises that sounded like explosions in the silence. "You better remember me, wolf man, cause Bobby just found a way to cure you and it has to happen tonight." He explained. He hadn't meant to inject so much urgency into his voice, but he needed Sam's cooperation. 

He sucked in a breath and stiffened as he took two large steps forward. Sam's furry outline bolted towards him faster than Dean could reach for his gun. He bit back a yelp as razor claws dug into his chest and an immense weight pushed him back. The world spun and his back crashed into the solid concrete. He heard a gasp go through his lips as the air was knocked out of him, but he was almost completely numb. His vision began turning dark and he couldn't stand like he desperately needed to. He concentrated on staying awake, but it didn't seem like that was gonna happen. "Bobby." He rasped out with the little strength he had. His head was pooling and fuzzy and he could distantly hear enraged snarling. "Bobby." It was a bit louder, but not much. He didn't know what the hell to do. There was a dull pain in his shoulder, then another in the crook of his neck. Something liquidy and hot was pouring over his chilled skin, but he was paralyzed and slipping from consciousness. Seconds before he drifted into a dreamless abyss, a light flooded the room and shown through his eyelids. There was a loud sound like a crack and then a whine. 

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The taste of skin and blood was euphoric. It was bitter and strong and gave him chills at how heavenly the taste was. He knew nothing but tearing flesh between his teeth and stretching his jaws as they sunk into bone. He hadn't reached that far yet, but he would soon. The muscles ripped and shredded In his mouth and the sound of tearing made his stomach clench with hunger. He greedily lapped up the flowing blood and wrapped his mouth around the crook of the man's neck. The blood filled his mouth and slipped down his dry throat. The man didn't stop him or even make a sound besides one weak word spoken twice. "Bobby." The second time was with slightly more force, but the man was growing weaker as he continued chewing and licking. Light flooded the room and his eyes adjusted quickly. He flicked them to the side without fully leaving his meal. A large man looking frightened yet determined stomped down a few of the stairs. He squared his jaw and moved his finger on the gun in his hands.

There was a flash of fire-light and a boom that deafened him. Pain exploded in his leg and shot through his whole body. A sharp cry left his throat and he toppled to the side. The man with the gun rushed forward to the injured one and bent down beside him. "Dean" he frantically called. He groaned, but remained still. The man slung his arm over his shoulder and lifted. He carried him up the stairs at a panicked speed. The men were gone, but the door was still wide open and he was screaming in pain. Wait-not screaming. Whining, whimpering, and yelping, but not screaming. Why wasn't he? The pain in his leg throbbed and with every pulse, he felt like thick fingernails were clawing viciously at his skin. He screeched with everything he had and it sounded completely animal. Why the hell didn't he sound human?! Sam. His name was Sam. Why couldn't he remember his name for so long? Dean. Dean would know what was happening. 

He manipulated his mouth to form the familiar name, but it was all wrong. It came out as a scratchy, pained bark-yelp. His mouth felt wrong, but everything hurt and he couldn't focus. He almost didn't care what was happening. he just wanted the fire in his veins to be extinguished. Footsteps pounded above him and moved away. Bobby came sprinting into the basement. When he hit the end of the stairs, he froze and stared uncertainly at Sam. Why wasn't he helping with the pain? A whimper crawled up his throat and it ended up morphing into a tortured groan. Bobby stepped forward slowly with his palms out. He continued moving closer with wide, unsure eyes. He knelt down cautiously and eyed Sam. Bobby jerked his head in a single nod that seemed to be more to himself. Pain seared through Sam's leg as Bobby's strong arms scooped him up and cradled him awkwardly to his chest. When his leg was touched, Sam jolted with cries and yelps that he couldn't seem to stop. He knew it sounded like he was being tortured, but in all fairness, that was what it felt like.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I had to do it. You were gonna kill him, I'm sorry." Bobby whispered as he walked carefully up the stairs. He laid Sam down as gently as he could on the couch and Sam swallowed the last of his yelps. "Sam? Sammy, you alright?" A groggy, worried voice called weakly. Sam whimpered in reply. No, he was definitely not alright. He could feel hot blood soaking in his leg and over his side and he felt wrong and his head was spinning in a way that made him feel sick. "Balls. His stitches opened when he turned. He's losing too much blood." Bobby declared. His voice was rough and angry with fear. "What about Dean? He got bit so close to the throat." That sounded like Jo. This was all beginning to feel like some crazy dream that made zero sense, but the pain reminded him that this was real, whatever it was. Wait, Dean was bitten by something? Sam made any and all noises of panic that he could. It sounded like barking and it tore up his raw throat, but he couldn't stop. Where the hell was Dean? "Sam, it's alright. Dean's alive. Ellen's patching him up. You need to stay still so we can get you patched up too, you hear me? If you don't let us, you could die." Bobby explained in a forceful rush. Sam quieted mostly besides an aggravated whine.

His mind was a scattered mess of half memories and confusion. Maybe it had something to do with all of that blood loss Bobby had been talking about. He jumped when he felt something touch his midsection. He looked down to see Bobby with a comforting hand on him as he inched closer with a bottle of alcohol, a needle, and a thread. He squeezed his eyes shut and attempted to not jump or yelp whenever the needle, hot with his blood, pierced the skin. The feeling of thread pulling through him was unpleasant, but familiar. It brought back memories from years of getting sewn up after hunts. Only this time was different. He couldn't look at his body because there was something wrong with it and what the hell, did he have fur? And Dean was hurt and could be dying.

\--------------

Sam was almost passed out when he realized there was nobody touching his side anymore. There was no needle and thread. With much effort, he struggled to lift his head and blink the blurriness out of his eyes. The sound of a doorbell suddenly pierced his sensitive ears. Bobby whipped his head to it and placed a hand near his waistband, where his gun was surely stashed. He casually walked out of the room with his eyes locked on a single spot. "Sammy? You awake?" Dean's weak voice asked. Sam whined softly in response. He heard shifting on the other couch and then stumbling footsteps. Dean slowly appeared in view and lowered himself onto the ground with a grunt. There was a large white patch in between his shoulder and neck. There was still a tint of orange-red staining his face. Sam swallowed his worry and couldn't contain the whine that rumbled in his chest. Dean shook his head and stretched out his hand to Sam. He stroked his side and whispered, "it's ok. I know you didn't mean to." For a moment, Sam was frozen. He stared unblinkingly into Dean's green eyes and attempted to stay calm, to think rationally.

That was lost when some of the scattered memories pieced together and began resembling something that makes a bit of sense. His vision began going fuzzy and now he really felt like he was gonna fucking puke because he somehow, he doesn't know yet, did this to Dean. It was somehow linked with his body feeling wrong and he could have sworn he saw fur at the corner of his eye, but he was too weak to look. He was already barely able to keep his eyes open and his vision was clouded just like his mind. Right then, he looked a little closer and forced his heavy eyes to focus. There was something on his face that was long and furry and looked like a damn snout, but it couldn't have been that. He was human, how the hell would he have a snout like a fucking dog? As pieces began to fit with each other, he worked out the truth. He remembered the witch mumbling something under her breath and he remembered the rage in the car just before everything went black. He remembered biting down into Dean's flesh and savoring the taste of his blood and skin.

He was horrified. He was breathing faster than he should have been and Dean was getting closer. He was saying something with a drawn brow and a creased forehead, but the words never reached him through the thick haze of panic. He heard them yet they had no meaning. It was a babble of sounds that meant nothing because he was too lost in his own head. Dean yelled right in his face and violently jerked his shoulder in his hand. His shoulder that felt different, wasn't in the right position. Dean turned his head and yelled something, his green eyes large and blazing with protectiveness. Someone rushed into the room and kneeled beside Dean. It took him a while to realize it was Bobby. His eyes rolled around the room as at least ten middle aged women entered watching him curiously. The one in front had long black hair and a stern expression. She was observing him with her hands on her hips and pursed lips. All business.

Sam was partially pulled out of his daze by a familiar scent. One that made him see blood. He focused his eyes like a laser on a figure wearing all black. The man's eyes locked with Sam's and he smirked with a disgusting amount of arrogance. "Sorry, boys. I can't let you undo a curse so nicely put together." He stated as an almost apology that was in no way sincere. He clasped his hands behind his back and took a steady step forward. He smoothly switched his eyes to Dean. Dean lifted himself up in a wobbly manner and glared hatefully at the warlock. "I'm gonna fucking kill you, you bastard." He said with a deadly calmness. The warlock's grin widened. "Such a feisty little hunter. I'd love to stay and watch you try, but unfortunately, making sure your little brother doesn't lose his claws is one of my many errands." He casually spoke. Dean launched forward with a small knife wrapped in his palm. Looking annoyed, the warlock flicked his hand and Dean flew in the air. He was pinned against the wall with a crack and a grunt.

Sam blinked and suddenly the warlock was right in front of him. He bent down with a sort of thirst in his features. For chaos? Revenge? He cocked his head to the side and laid his index finger on Sam's head. Sam felt something worming its way into his mind, some kind of force. it tugged at him, urging him to go somewhere. All of a sudden, something important was gone. There was only fear. Fear of all of these people standing around him. Fear of all of the yelling coming from the man against the wall. The man, a warlock, some part of him knew, winked once at him and vanished. Sam forced himself to his paws and ignored the intense shock of pain. He flattened his ears and snarled at the people standing around him.

\--------------

Dean couldn't think. That asshole warlock had done something to Sam, AGAIN, and now he was growling at everyone in the room with flicking eyes. His teeth intimidatingly shined in the night and his body was stiff. "Sam." Dean addressed brokenly. It took him a second to realize he was freed from the wall. Sam didn't flinch at his name. "The sun is coming up soon, we have to do the spell now." A woman with long black hair commented. "You must be the witches." Dean said obviously without letting his eyes leave Sam. The woman nodded and fully turned to him. "Look, it's gonna be a waste of a trip if this spell doesn't even get done and I don't plan on coming back, so if you don't mind, I need you to restrain him." She said flatly as she gestured to Sam. Dean stepped forward and glanced at her. Sam creeped backwards on the couch as if he were getting ready to pounce. "Got any ideas?" Dean asked the witch sarcastically. The witch narrowed her eyes at him and crossed her arms. "Hold him down?" She answered with just as much sarcasm and dislike. Dean nodded and replied, "fine. Let's just get this done. You better do it as fast as you possibly can though." He demanded strictly. The witch blinked and nodded acceptingly. 

She forced her lips into a grin that just didn't look right on her stiff face. She turned around to the group of other witches and gave a small nod. The witches seemed to know what this meant as they dispersed from their tight group and began digging through their bags. Dean watched as they quickly formed a near perfect circle and held something in each of their palms. The witch with the black hair turned and gestured for Dean to enter the circle. He took a wary step forward and the witch rolled her eyes dramatically. "Don't forget the one we're actually here for, hunter." She spat condescendingly. For a second Dean considered being sarcastic or rude back, but then he heard Sam growling louder at his side and realized that this wasn't the time. Bobby walked forward confidently and stopped beside Dean. "He's injured, so it shouldn't be too bad, but he's still gonna fight us." He mentioned as he cautiously continued forward. Dean swallowed the shock of Bobby volunteering to help with such a task and gripped his shoulder. "I'm doing this alone, Bobby." He announced. Bobby turned towards him and opened his mouth; ready to put Dean in his place. Before he could speak, Dean cut him off.

"There's no way in hell. I'm the one that wasn't there for Sam when that damn witch cursed him and I need to help make him better." He argued as the guilt flooded through him. "Dean, you're hurt. You need help." Bobby retorted. Dean couldn't let him. If Sam killed him...it would be on Dean. "Bobby...please." Dean whispered desperately. He wanted this done and he didn't have time to argue. Bobby stared him down in consideration before nodding remorsefully and stepping out of the way. Dean kept his breathing even and inched closer to Sam. "Sam...we're gonna end this." Dean assured the angry wolf. Sam narrowed his eyes and licked his lips. He snarled more viciously when Dean took a step closer. Preparing for the worst, Dean charged forward. He wrapped his arms around Sam's furry neck and clasped his hands together. Sam forced his teeth closer and snapped them threateningly. Dean pushed his face away and dug his fingers into thick fur. He dragged Sam inside the circle of witches as fast as he could. "Keep him in the circle! If he breaks it, the spell won't work." The black haired witch yelled out over Sam's growls.

He glanced at the witches to see that they were tossing grey dust at Sam. When they ran out, they joined hands and lifted their faces to the ceiling. Sam struggled out of his grip with a violent jerk. Dean moved both hands to his neck fur and kept him at a distance. Sam desperately tugged away and almost slipped from Dean's grip. He shot his hands up and wrapped them around his midsection. He yanked Sam to the floor and threw a leg over his body. Sam wiggled until he was turned over on the other side and he dug his teeth into Dean's shoulder. Dean yelled in both pain and aggravation and swung a fist towards Sam. It hit him right in the nose and he yelped. Sam fought back by catching Dean's hand in his mouth and bit down. Dean pulled it away, but Sam had it locked in his jaw and refused to let go. "Sam, stop!" Dean commanded desperately. He continued yanking it away while keeping a strong hold on Sam and eventually noticed the witches speaking in unison. 

Sam yelped again and released his hand. Dean pulled it back and thought he might throw up. It was mangled and leaking dark blood at a worrying rate. Sam suddenly went limp and whined miserably. Dean scooted away and watched as he began to convulse and writhe. The bones cracked as they realigned and his skin stretched over shifting muscles. He twitched as lumps of fur fell away and he began looking more human. The transformation finally ended and Sam breathed short gulps. His eyes scanned the room lazily and his mouth gaped. He groaned and lifted a shaky hand to rub his head. Bobby threw a blanket over him Dean crawled over to him and leaned down. "Sammy? That you in there?" He whispered hopefully. Sam swallowed hard and responded "yeah. All me." Sluggishly. Dean grinned and automatically knew what would come next. They would both take a few days to heal up and then they would hunt that damn warlock son of a bitch down.


End file.
